Ren Waugh-Solo (behindthemask) wrote in thedisplaced, @ 2017-03-19 23:24:00 |
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Back in space again and Kylo Ren was already restless. There was no leader to follow, no mission to partake in, no skills to be practiced. And while he could review what he knew, it wasn't really leading towards anything which meant that he was getting impatient with it. If it were leading towards something then that would be one thing, but as it was? There was his Grandfather, at least, and his Grandmother. Two people that he genuinely did want to spend time with, but he couldn't spend every moment with them, which was how he found himself wandering through one of the many cantinas on one of the Prettiest Stars levels. He couldn't help but feel somewhat smug at the level of everyone simply throwing themselves into entertainment as if there was something about what they were doing that was important. Of course, he was also here and he had nothing of any important to do, and that thought brought him back to the ground again. Finding a quiet corner away from the entrance he sank awkwardly into a chair he was almost too tall to really fit in, ordered a drink, and pulled out a datapad to study it as if it might have some answers. Since leaving Coruscant, Han had been restless. Not only had it kicked up multiple feelings and reactions in Leia, but it had done the same to him. They were living in a strange time, a strange place. They visited a planet that apparently he would one day call home, but not in a time he really knew. And now they were back among the stars and all he could think about was how pointless his life felt. It’s not that Han’s life had always been especially full of purpose. There was some pride in how good of a smuggler he was, but was it important work? No. The last three years he’d spent with the rebellion, fighting a fight that mattered, had changed him. He genuinely cared about the outcome. To have that all put on hold to hang out on a fancy ship was far beyond frustrating. He stumbled into the closest cantina for a drink, hoping he could forget about how useless he felt for a little while, and had nearly sat down when he saw him: Kylo Ren, his son from that other life possibility he had. It was strange. Leia knew that her future was the one that included Anakin. Han was pulled from a time before the deviance, and he had no idea. He could be the father of this jaded young man, or the father of his cheerful little clone. In either case, he was surprised how naturally he fell into a fatherly need to both care and annoy his offspring. “Well, look who I found. You look about as bored as I am.” Kylo didn't have to look up to know that he had absolutely no interest in looking up to see the fact that he knew was staring at him. For an instant too long he stared at the datapad screen in front of him, eyes slightly hidden behind dark curls, before he lifted his chin, and turned to look up into the eyes of Han Solo. He had been hoping for no effect whatsoever in looking at him. A sure sign that naturally he no longer had any particular attachment to the man he had killed, and a sure sign that Ben's attachment might have been destroyed in that action along with Ben himself. Instead the flutter of recognition that he was looking at a man that might not be any older than he was himself. Less the weathered face of his father, and more the man that had been his father when he had been younger and cared desperately. The sudden desire to deny absolutely any boredom or restlessness or indeed any similarity at all to this man. "I have a datapad," he replied sullenly, a finger tapping it. "I cannot possibly look as bored as you do." “You’re very literal, aren’t you?” Han took a seat next to him and pulled his own datapad out from the waistline of his pants, underneath his jacket. “Now we’re even.” He watched his son for a moment. It was strange, to imagine this man was his son. They looked like they were about the same age. He’d experienced just as much as Han had, and whatever that experience included, it wasn’t a positive experience from his father. “Listen, kid—and yes, I am going to keep calling you that—I don’t know anything about your life. I don’t know what idiotic mistakes I’ll make in the upcoming years. But I have been all about trying harder these last few years. Doing things that mean something. And if there’s anything I could do to—I don’t know, not fix things, but—to make myself a better man when I get the chance to be a father, I’m all ears.” And then he sat down. Kylo watched him do so, his eyes following him and then looking down to the datapad in front of him. He supposed he could get up and leave, but that held an awkwardness to it as well as if he stayed. But even just the words, the voice, it sounded like - well, it was his Dad's voice. No, it was Ben's Dad's voice. The words hadn't been expected either. It was an apology, well sort of, at least it was an apology for what he might do, even though he hadn't done it yet. Kylo wasn't even certain how to approach that. Or to approach the idea that his Father might want to have done better. Of course, every time Ben had thought that Han would do better, it hadn't worked out that way. And then it had just been the end and it had been something he could stop thinking about - except for how he couldn't stop thinking about it, exactly. "I'm not literal," he pouted for a moment. "At least not always." Kylo lifted his gaze, forcing himself to look into the eyes of the man across from him. This prompted him to swallow hard as he realized how familiar the look was, even if the hair was more brown than salt and pepper, and there were fewer wrinkles. The two had to be close to the same age, honestly. "I don't want to talk about it," he responded instead. And he didn't. He certainly didn't want to talk about his last memories of the man in front of him, but it seemed as if both of his parents felt as if they needed to intentionally seek him out rather than just leave him alone. Typical. "How old are you?" He asked, seeking to relieve the pressure on talking about his childhood. Just treat the man as if he were any stranger rather than his father. Technically he wasn't Ben's father yet. So he wasn't. Han didn’t expect this young man to be forthcoming and suddenly want to have a heart to heart. Didn’t really seem like his style. And, well, given who his parents are, Han wasn’t especially surprised by that. He was taken back by the age question, though. “Thirty. And how old are you exactly?” he asked back. If this was the way their conversation was going to go, Han was willing to play along. Kylo said nothing, but his gaze gave away the amusement and dash of insecurity that followed the realization that he and his father nearly were the same age. There was a reason he wore the mask most of the time. It was safer than allowing his face to be seen. But he didn't have his mask right now, and he had mostly been avoiding wearing it on the ship. "Twenty-nine," he offered, wishing only that the ages had been just reversed so that he could be older this his father. It was a petty wish, but it was there nonetheless. Still, he was hardly a child, no more so than his father. Which meant that he didn't have to put up with any notion of parenting by Han. So he wouldn't. "Why did you come here?" He finally asked. “For a drink,” he answered. “But I got distracted.” Han looked at his son, at how much they looked alike. At how sour he was. Han really wasn’t sure what he could do. He wished he had a little bit of parenting under his belt. And this he wished he hadn’t actually had that thought. How domestic of him. “I suppose you’d prefer if I actually got my drink and went somewhere else?” "Like it would make any difference," Kylo huffed and looked down at his datapad feeling rather tired and raw. The transfer in locations had been unanticipated, and difficult. In some ways less difficult than it had been on the Island. He had at least been familiar with the concept of Coruscant, and with space cruises of the type they were on, but there was no one here that he could even pretend to let down his guard around. Not that there was anyone that he really did let his guard down around. Well, that cat, maybe. But that didn't really count. He cautiously raised his eyes to find Han Solo still there, still watching him, and still a year older than him, but only a year. "I don't own the cantina," he shrugged. "You can drink wherever you want." Han had seen less hostile behavior out of a fourteen-year-old. What did they do to stunt this poor kid’s emotional growth. He shook his head as he walked up to the bar to order his drink. He could have sat down on the other side of the cantina. He could have given this surly offspring some space. But what fun would that be? Instead, Han plopped right back down where he’d been before. He took a sip of his beer and enjoyed a moment of licking foam off from around his mouth. “So, you’re twenty-nine. You don’t act especially twenty-nine. You at least have a nice job, I assume? I’m sure underneath all the grimacing and witty comments you are a pretty intelligent guy.” Han's comments brought him a bit of whiplash, from the perceived insult of not acting his age - as if Han Solo were ever one to talk - to what then felt like a compliment of sorts. Kylo reached out in the Force to check this. Yeah, it was genuine. Or at least what counted for it with Han Solo. Kylo frowned slightly and wished he'd picked himself up a drink before he'd started in with his datapad. He was reasonably certain Han Solo wasn't going to like his job, on the other hand… "I work in government," he offered. He didn't know what Solo had been told by his mother, or anyone else, but since there was no way he could know it by having lived it… "I'm a direct operative, I have my own shuttle, and command my own missions. I'm strong in the Force, and yes, I'm intelligent." As Han listened to his son and could tell that he was leaving things out. Government wasn’t surprising, not given how good Leia was at it. But the rest was...concerning. A direct operative with his own shuttle, taking command? That was military, and leadership. And, well, sounded more like his grandfather than his mother. “Sounds vaguely like Darth Vader’s job description,” he said, looking up to meet his gaze. And there was the insight that Kylo had kinda hoped he wouldn't see from this Han. His father could be dense sometimes, but sometimes he could cut to the chase in an uncanny way and this - well - had rather done that. While it could have been a compliment - in fact, the comparison with his grandfather was something that Kylo wanted most of the time - he also knew that coming from Han Solo, it wasn't. "So what if it does?" Kylo returned, looking back up. "You asked a question, I answered it. Lots of people have shuttles and missions. It's so typical for you to jump to the worst case scenario that you can think of. But Darth Vader is my grandfather. You know that right? Or did mother fail to tell you that too?" Han frowned at the question. While Leia hadn’t delayed too long in telling him that terrifying truth, it hadn’t been fast enough to stop him from majorly putting his foot in his mouth with Anakin Skywalker. While not the best at reading emotions, he could tell that was a pain point for his son, and—maybe?—part of what made him into, well, this. And nothing like Anakin Solo. “Where I’m from, Leia doesn’t know that yet either. Apparently she learns it not too long after, so I can’t really speak to that. But she has kept me in the loop here.” Even if it wasn’t as quickly as it should have been, but Kylo here didn’t need to know that. Kylo huffed a breath out. Why hadn't he grabbed a drink before he'd come over here? He didn't even like drinking much, didn't like the loss of control, even if he could push most of that away with the Force. But it would give him something to do with his hands besides the damn datapad in front of him. Something to kill time with while his father stared at him and seemed determined to hold a conversation with him. And there was that flicker of doubt about Leia. Their conversations hadn't gone well, to say the least, and he could be certain that he'd hurt her. He also knew she wasn't the Leia that had been his mother - for starters she had no children yet, where he would have been a toddler fighting bad dreams if she'd been from his galaxy. His mother hadn't told him anything, this Leia had obviously filled Han in more quickly. But then, had that just been because his grandfather was here in person, and not any sign of her being someone who would be more likely to tell the truth to the people who mattered? Kylo frowned slightly, his brows coming together heavily. "Regardless, it has no bearing on your original question." It felt a little like he was pulling out an already beaten horse to beat again. So he shook his head, shaking off the question, letting his hair shake out a little, and instead looked over to Han. "The galaxy is a mess where I come from. All I want is to see it be an orderly place for people to live. You might as well know that neither you nor mother approve of my methods. But it's what I was trying to do before I was kidnapped again. Instead, I'm now here, on a pleasure cruise, with nothing useful to do, and this time without the benefit of an ally, or even a Corellian Ale. And you should probably decide, if my job description is exactly like my grandfather's, if you even want to continue this conversation." Han could understand the frustration. He felt the same way. “It's frustrating, isn't it?” He agreed. He hated doing nothing. He hated thinking about what was going on at home, not that he was extremely important, but Leia surely was, the number of years ahead of him, especially as they rebuilt the galaxy. But he also realized that while he knew a little bit more about his son, the conversation itself wasn't progressing. This was going nowhere, and maybe it was time to put them out of their misery. “The conversation isn't over, Kylo Ren, but I'll put you out of your misery for now.” He stood and finished his drink. “Enjoy your evening.” What his father meant by the conversation wasn't over, Kylo wasn't certain. He'd expected that something like this would probably make his father go away, and he'd just been wishing to be left alone, but it still sat uncomfortably in his stomach as he raised his gaze to look at the man that was now standing over him. He didn't really know what to say to that either. It felt as if his father was getting the last word, which he hated, but a comeback was not quick to his tongue. "Whatever then," he shrugged as if it were immaterial to him one way or another, and it was, wasn't it? It was probably the most teenage response possible, but Han knew better than to try and do anything with it. It was time to cut it off. “See you around, kid.” He left his empty glass with payment on the counter and walked back to his quarters. |