Anodyne

[Joza Perl]

After the events of Caught​

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The Semmelweis​

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She’d been awake for about a week. A decent recovery time in line with what they’d expected—the drugs helped speed things up, helped brighten her prognosis. They didn’t know what to expect at first given the extent of the internal bleeding but they managed to relieve the pressure on her brain with surgery. The hemorrhage had to be monitored closely, but she pulled through. Only within the last few days had she become lucid enough to begin to comprehend what had been done—what had happened to her and what the surgeons and orthopedic specialists had done to repair the damage.

It was difficult to get anyone to tell her what had actually happened.

She knew that she’d been somewhere she shouldn’t have, some lapse in judgement or plain bad luck had led to this. Whenever she asked, they would give her a restrained smile and ask if she needed anything. More water, more morphine, but they wouldn’t answer. Then they would fade back into the noise and sterile lighting of the hall, away from her private room. Maybe that was why—she owned this medical station, maybe they were afraid of her reaction. Maybe they thought it wasn’t there place.

Her frustrations grew until a vaguely familiar face showed up. A surgeon, one who’d helped build The Semmelweis. The one who repaired her hemorrhaging brain. No one had been honest with her until then.

“The pulled my nails out.”

The room was dim because she wanted it that way. She hated the bright clinical lighting of the hospital, it only reminded her that she was ill. Staring down at her bandaged hands, she flexed them the best she could, a frown tinging her lips. Her expression didn’t have much disappointment or horror behind it, rather she seemed more lost and distracted. Part of what annoyed her so much was how they thought she couldn’t handle it.

"All of them."

A man in a while labcoat shifted against one of the many monitors surrounding her, peering down at her bandaged limbs. His hand swept across the dark stubble of his chin where he scratched.

“Yes.” He responded finally. “Do you need something for the pain?”

She shook her head. The ache in her nailbeds spread up through her fingers but she was fine for now. They’d grow back anyhow.

“Not right now,” She placed the hand back down on her lap. She’d been here before, in a place like this. In a bed, bandaged up after a battle. More than once, more often than not, but none of those times were personal. They were attacks on her allies, her friends, her beliefs, but none directed squarely at her.

She peered up at him, easier now than before given that the swelling around her eye had gone down. It still bore an ugly black ring and some scar tissue but she looked less like a beaten puppy this way. A little bit. The other eye was still bandaged, the damage too much for them to repair. She’d never see out of it again, he’d told her, at least not normally. Fitting her for an implant would be a lengthy process but it was something he’d urged her to think about soon.

“Thanks,” Her voice was softened with exhaustion, fatigued just by being alive at this point. The nurses crooned at how she’d gotten better each day but Joza couldn’t count her blessings right now. Not until she could see properly, walk without aid and paint her nails again.

This damage, every blow was meant precisely for her.

And it killed her to be here doing nothing about it.

She’d learned to cultivate patience over the years, learned how to be tactful with these sorts of things. Even though this state of the art medical center was the best possible place she could be right now, she wished she were anywhere else. Against her better judgement, the Zeltron would take a cantina clinic in the outer rim over the sterile, orderly medical facility.

“It’s my job.” There was a sort of lethargy in his voice as if he’d been awake for longer than he should which was likely true. Lukas gave her a tight smile and exhaled through his nose. “Losing you would be bad for business.”

She smiled faintly. “Go,” Her head tilted towards the door. “I need to rest.”

Joza wasn’t tired, nor did she dislike Lukas. She just needed space.

[member="The Slave"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

And so Joza sat, her ambitions finally caught up to her in a cruel act of redemption. Perhaps for the lives she had taken, that somehow they outweighed the lives she had saved if karma was truly the almighty judgment of reactions. Her fingers ached, her heart painfully thudding away the seconds that passed with every passing second; silence filling the room for a few careless minutes before the sound of a cart being wheeled towards her room could be heard outside.

Slowly, the door opened as a nurse backed into the room, idly humming some unknown tune before checking her morphine bag. There was something odd about her, however; perhaps in her faintly broad shoulders or the way her muscles seemed so much more taught than the casual medical staff. It all seemed to make sense when they leaned down near her face, no aura about him, but the corruption in their eyes gave way to what they truly were.

A sith.

Golden globes of molten electrum washed over her as The Slave moved the thin paper mask from his mouth and nose, offering her his traditional golden smile. Reaching a hand back, a chair slid from across to the room into his grasp as he spoke, the ever pleasant reminder of his sultry ways tinging every tone;

“Hi Joza.”, he said coyly.

On his neck was a faintly odd necklace, one that Joza may not have known was the cause of his lack of sensation within the force, but one that allowed him free reign of most facilities where force sensitives were a thing. Offering a wink, he sat informally on the chair with wig still on his head, hat atop that.

Oddly enough, it was only now Joza would realize he made a faintly attractive female. He looked good in both gender roles, as weird as it sounded, but it made sense considering just who he was. A hand moved to support his chin as he watched her, before those pale lips offered another few choice words;

“I missed you.”

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

As lucid as she’d been over the past couple of days, the edges of her senses were still blunted and blurred, especially when it came to processing subtle cues from her subconscious. Maybe if she’d been well she would have thought it strange that she felt no darker aura shift around the new arrival. Something in her recognized the nurse but that was it. Was it the build? The hair?

The eyes, then the face, then her name.

She stared for a long moment, single visible eye boring into his own as her thoughts spiraled in different directions before coming to converge in recognition. This wasn’t the first time she’d looked into a pair of sulfuric yellow eyes and it likely wouldn’t be the last.

“You’ve grown,” She paused to lift her head and neck, coughing to clear her throat. “Into a lovely young woman.”

Adnan, for all he was worth, was not a Sith. He was a certain trope of Dark Jedi, but Joza knew him well enough to understand that he took risks. He liked to play with his food, and in doing so ran the risk that she’d manage to escape or tap into some reserve of power that could break the literal chain and suppression collar around her in. Neither had happened, but she’d fought like hell.

He could have killed her.

“You here to finish the job?”

Her forehead crinkled as her brow arched and she found that the simple movement felt very uncomfortable.

That wasn’t why he was here. If she was wanted dead, she would have been dead. Instead, she’d been made into a message, an example. And that was something she had to right.

[member="The Slave"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

“If by finish the job, you mean sweep you off your handicapped feet; then yes.”, he chuckled, slowly removing the wig to reveal his iconic alabaster hair. His features had roughened slightly, obviously a sign he’d grown into a young man rather well. A smile accented them graciously, letting the entire expression fall warmly towards her own.

A hand moved to rest on her arm, thumb stroking gently against the skin as he looked over her various injuries. As much as the smile on his face implied his joy for the situation of meeting her again, it was obvious he was worried for her; if only slightly. His voice broke the temporary silence once more, a softer tone than he had taken before;

“How are you feeling?”

True empathy, even sympathy, something few ever were able to witness from The Slave; especially as his life spiraled down the darker path. From the Darkstaff consuming life all around him, to his rampant abominations wreaking havoc, even his own whimsical fits of destruction; each a foundational flaw in any semblance of stability that may have existed in his life at one point, even as a slave with no name.

Eventually, as Joza would answer, those corrupted sulphuric eyes would meet her own emerald greens; letting a few sly emotions slip through to the zeltron, even in her weakened state.


[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Her skin prickled with goosebumps as he rested his hand to her arm and she was thankful for the sensation. Zeltrons were never shy about touch and certainly professed of its healing properties. It was no secret that Joza was an affectionate creature.

She exhaled through her nose as their eyes found eachother. There was at least a semblance of empathy there, something genuine she picked up on.

“Not well.” Even if she had felt the urge to lie it wouldn’t have stuck. “But I’ll get better.” She was out of the woods as far as death was concerned, barring any more brain hemorrhages or tearing stitches elsewhere. Not to mention the weight on her mind but she’d slowly been sifting through that over the past few days.

Damn Lukas from banning her access to her work. She had a company to run.

She took a good look at him and couldn’t help the smallest upward twinge of her lips. “I think I’m going to have to have a talk about security.” She couldn’t have Sith gallivanting about her medical station disguised as sexy nurses.

Put that on the backburner for now.

“So,” She drew her bandaged hand slowly atop his. “Don’t tell me you plan to smuggle me out under your skirt.”

[member="The Slave"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

“First time seeing me in over a year and you’re already trying to get under my skirt? For shame, Joza.”, he mused.

In truth, every meeting they’ve had so far he had flirted with her either physically or auditory, ,but there was certain joy in it for him now. As notorious as he was for simply sleeping with someone and leaving, he didn’t actually care to sleep with Joza; at least not on the forefront of his mind. They were relatively close on a more personal level that he appreciated, lest he’d be far more insane by now.

The Slave’s expression turned a bit more somber before shaking his head, letting what empathetic gaze he held flounder into something a little worse for wear. With eyes averted to a downtrodden stare at her blankets, he offered a few more words, ones colder than his others;

“I actually came to talk to you about myself, as selfish as that is.”

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

She only tisked in response, not having the mental strength to come up with a fitting quip in response.

It was still nice to see a familiar face even if the circumstances were less than ideal. That last time she’d seen him…he’d been a mess, frankly. Looks like he’d grown up and away from that.

While the true nature of his visit was revealed, Joza pushed herself up to recline into a more comfortable sitting position so that she could have a conversation without feeling too infirm. “Hm,” She grunted, followed by her clearing her throat. “Get me some water.”

There was a small water cooler in the corner room, a privilege of being a VIP patient. After that she’d give him the floor to talk.

[member="The Slave"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The Slave offered her a smile before moving to stand and walk towards the fridge. He took care to pull the skirt down slightly, obviously a sign it wasn’t exactly the right size for his robust thighs and thin waist. Still, he seemed to flaunt it ever so faintly that there was certain attractiveness to each step. He might as well just be a manly female at this point. Even taking care to bend over to grab her water, rear in her direction, she’d get a full view of a well formed rump that he may have stuffed for the character he was playing.

A chuckle later, and he stood and walked back towards her, gently resting the bottle on one side of her while moving to position himself back where he was; hand resting on her arm and a story on his tongue. His tone began small, meek almost in comparison to how he was before;

“To be honest Joza, I’ve gotten ahold of something a bit past me.”, he uttered in a near whisper.

With eyes averted, he dragged his index finger across her skin in second long intervals that seemed to tickle more than offer pressure.

“Its called The Darkstaff. I’m learning how to control it, I think, but its difficult.”

He paused for a second, letting his free hand scratch his temple with a nervous twitch before moving to speak once more;

“I almost killed someone I really cared about because I fell for its lies, Joza. I…”

Another pause.

“I thought it’d save her, and myself, but I think I only ended up hurting us both.”

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Though as lucid as she’d been over the past week, Joza was still a little fuzzy. Part trauma, part drugs. But John Doe was a welcome distraction…at least he wasn’t here to poke her full of holes or shuttle her off to another CT scan.

She took the water and uncapped it, sipping cautiously as if unsure of her own capabilities. At the mention of The Darkstaff, her gaze lifted and tried to lock with his own—but he’d turned away. It was no secret that the Dark side of the Force was dangerous. It was probably the only thing Jedi and Sith could agree upon. Many a young Jedi found its pull irresistible while some, a handful, seemed impervious to it. There were so many who fell inbetween, somewhere on the spectrum from light to dark.

It was dangerous, all of it.

She glanced down at his index finger, watching the digit as it grazed along her skin before letting her head rest back against the pillow.

“Why keep it then?”

[member="The Slave"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The Slave simply shrugged in response, idly tapping his finger against her in the silence. He wasn’t entirely sure why he kept it, perhaps the draw of power it had, perhaps the fact it chose him and that meant something. It gave him chances nothing else could, and in turn he simply had to give it what it needed.

“I need it, but that's not the point.”, he said rather flatly.

“My issue is that I made a poor choice; and I’m at a loss as to where to go.”

A faint, almost weak smile crept on his lips before he looked back up to her;

“I’m a little heartbroken Joza. That’s all.”

That might have been the first, last, and only admission of pain The Slave had ever had. It was an odd thing coming from the man who so often had every situation under his thumb, some way to deal with everything that came at him. It’d hurt to feel the sensations coming from him, and obvious sign he couldn’t hold back just how he felt, and for a Zeltron that wasn’t good.

It only lasted a second before his smiled widened and whatever he was feeling subsided behind whatever facade he usually had erected; giving her a chance to respond.

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

I need it, but that’s not the point.

It always was the point.

He was opening up to her, and that was the bigger point here. Even if only a little, he’d come to talk to her and hopefully smuggle her out under his petticoats.

“Alright.”

She stretched the best she could, shifting her shoulders so that she’d hear one of them crack. Joza was an active person and hated doing nothing, so it was safe to say that the idling was killing her.

“What happened, John?”

[member="The Slave"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

His smile didn’t waver, didn’t falter at her question, only an unsure laugh came through that betrayed what confidence he showed; though he didn’t speak, only shook his head and looked away. He was thinking about what to say, deciding on just what he wanted to tell her; what would be too much, or too little?

Eventually he sighed and looked right back her, a faint pain hidden behind those sulphuric eyes of his. His voice came slow, premeditated, but smooth as the molten silver that dripped from his tongue;

“I don’t know, Joza.”

He shrugged his shoulders in absence of further words, letting silence fill the void for a moment before speaking once more;

“I thought she was weakness, that somehow her death might insure that nobody would gain an advantage over me.”, though his words didn’t seem genuine.

“I… That's what I told myself. I didn’t want to kill her, I just wanted to separate us. Create some space that would protect her if someone ever went after me.”

He shook his head once more.

“It was for her protection. I’m just not sure it was the right choice, after all.”

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

The story was vague and the drugs didn’t help, blurring her senses more than she initially thought they were. Maybe she was just getting tired, or maybe Joza was finally losing it inside these sterile white walls. On some level she could appreciate the clinical efficiency, but mostly she hated it.

The more he spoke and the more she turned his words over in her head, the more connections she made. There were telltale traces of heartache and confusion in his voice, in his eyes. Neither dominated the other.

“I’ve heard a story like that.” Her words were slow, careful as she voiced the thought while it formed.

Push what you love away so that it couldn’t be used against you. Everyone dealt with weaknesses differently...Sith, Jedi or whatever you were or weren’t.

Her lips parted then paused as he spoke,

…I’m just not sure it was the right choice, after all…

She snorted, or at least what passed for a snort in her state. “I’m not sure if I made the right choice either, Doe.” It was sympathetic rather than guarded or aggressive. In the depth of her soul she knew that she what she had to do when it came to Haytham but that didn’t stop the occasional trickles of regret.

Joza leaned her head back into the pillow, staring at the wall for a few silent moments before focusing back on Slave. “You’ll feel some amount of regret no matter what choice you make. It sucks, but it's life.”

The monitor beside her beeped rhythmically to the silence between them.

“Where is she now?”

[member="The Slave"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

“No clue.”, he said with a shrug.

Although it was subtle, he seemed to be avoiding her gaze, though the soft massage of his finger never really ceased against her arm. At times, it seemed less for her and more for his own comfort as time passed, though she couldn’t be sure, even with her Zeltron empathy. His voice spoke up once more, tinged with some deep seeded sorrow he obviously hid behind grievous walls;

“Its probably for the best.”, he sighed.

Another moment of silence, and he spoke up once more;

“Do you ever feel like everything we do is predetermined? Like somehow we’re all puppets in the grand schemes of some apathetic god?”, he said, finally breaking his habit of looking away to stare her in the face.

“Why does everything just repeat? The galaxy is always in crisis, the people are always here to suffer…”, he said, his voice getting more frustrated by the second.

“I’m tired of it…”

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Joza’s gaze focused passively on Slave, her fuzzy and cracked mind taking things in at a slower rate than usual though he’d started to jog her attention. It was a good mental exercise, she realized, to have a more serious conversation like this. Not just Lukas droning on about the extent of her injuries, the fractures, the sight she wouldn’t be able to recover naturally.

Though she was a powerful practitioner of empathy, she used it mostly for observation. Though Slave likely felt alone, she’d been in a similar place before, being pulled between a war of ideologies in her own head. Her behavior had been erratic, explosive at times and she’d been altogether unsure what she was working towards or even if she was working.

Joza remained silent, taking in what he’d said and turning it over in her mind, digesting each piece and reflecting on it. She laid in thoughtful silence, almost serene, as if content to be here right now.

“That’s the exhaustion talking.” She murmured, eye searching the off-white wall for something she would not find.

“I don’t have an answer for why everything repeats. Greed, maybe. Fear.” Thousands of texts have been written circling the answer to that question.

She inhaled, held the breath for a moment then exhaled audibly. “So you did something bad, and you’re not sure if it was the right choice?”

[member="The Slave"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

“... Something like that.”, he sighed.

The Slave sat in silence as he watched her, as if waiting for her to lead the conversation from here. It seemed he was tired, though not of their conversation, so much as him talking. He didn’t want to be annoyed around her, nor irritated. There was something about it that felt offensive, especially since he was already so selfish to approach Joza in her weakened condition just to complain about his own shortcomings.

His finger continued to trace itself along her skin, idly waiting for not only her voice, but for her to simply pay attention to his actions. There was a certain comfort for them both in physical contact, enough so that if The Slave were reborn he might as well have been a zeltros. Though judging by his current lifestyle, it wouldn’t be too different apart from a pink hued skin tone.

“What do you think, Joza?”

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

She watched him, just lucid enough. Just fuzzy enough to ease the reigns.

Her eyes dropped down to her arm, his finger still tracing along her skin in idle patterns. And then in one strong, sudden movement, she wrapped her hand around his forearm and pulled him down into the bed with her.

He’d likely recognize the strength around it as a little inhuman, more solid and mechanical than flesh and bone. Perks of having a cybernetic arm, but the exertion caused her blood pressure to spike and one of the monitors to start beeping.

She didn’t speak right then, instead closing her eyes while she alternated breathing through her mouth and nose in an almost meditative manner. After a few minutes, the erratic beeping became more rhythmic.

“I think you’re selfish and childish.” Her words slurred at the end from a mix of fatigue and the waning of her polite persona. There was no malice, but there was no comfort in her voice either. Her words were plain. “If you were my kid, I’d take your datapad away for a month.”

[member="The Slave"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

There was a quietness between them before Joza moved to pull him tight. Her cybernetic arm held true in its potency, and tugged him tight to the bed. It wasn’t that he resisted, but she indeed had strength that seemed a bit in excess of someone her size; letting his form get pulled across her and landing squarely in her chest. It wasn’t the first time he’d been in such a provocative position, but he wasn’t quite sure that was her attention in her obviously semi-delirious state.

As she spoke, he listened, but he still stood to enjoy the moment where his grin sat. Eventually, he responded with a quip of his own, one littered with flirtatious provocativeness.

“I wouldn’t mind calling you ‘Mami’ either.”, he chuckled, “Yet, I’m really not sure if you’re actually flirting with me right now, Joza.”

Readjusting, he made the position less provocative by turning his head to simply listen to her heartbeat, its soft thuds finding muse with his own and he subconsciously moved to match its slowed pace. The drugs she was under obviously had taken their affect on her psyche, and her faint smell seemed to drag his into the same state.

“What should I do with the life I’m given, Joza?”, he said between the organic metronome that beat beneath him.

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Joza hmph’d in vague amusement.

“You wouldn’t be the only one.” She murmured, hand sliding up his back to twine idly in his hair. She exhaled audibly through her nose, a relaxed sound. It was nice to have some physical contact that didn’t involve blood collection tubes.

She tried to shrug but the movement was a bit awkward in their position.

“I don’t know.” She answered truthfully. “You have to figure out what you want. And if you don’t know what you want, you have to keep moving forward.” She pursed her lips.

“Because stagnation is the worst.”

Her head lolled to the side so that their face were close, too close for comfort but Joza was Joza and Slave was Slave so neither of them likely minded. She brought a hand in close and brushed back the white hair from his brow. “Do you know what you want?”

[member="The Slave"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Thump. Thump. Thump.

It was reassuring, the constant beating of her heart. Calmed him from his unruly demeanor only moments before, even if he was still bothered by the endless questions he had in his mind. A faint ‘harumph’ at her mention of the word ‘stagnation’, something he didn’t want to think about, but something he was actively in. He had to come up with something to get past this.

He sighed before glancing up to her, almost purring at the way she stroked his hair. It was true that neither of them cared how close their faces were, but it reminded him faintly of the romantic embrace they once held in a drug filled nightclub, when he was a younger man at that. Yet, her question kept his focus from watching her lips, even attempting to kiss her as he undoubtedly would have done given another minute, instead considering just what it was he actually wanted in life.

Resisting the urge to say ‘You.’, he contemplated what it was in silence before offering a simple, equally awkward shrug;

“I honestly don’t know. I’m… just angry.”, he sighed.

[member="Joza Perl"]