suitably_heroic | New York City, Thursday

Sometimes mornings were nice. Time spent in the music room, after people had woken up, but before he needed to be anywhere. Jack let his fingers move over the keys, his ear fied on the sound of Dane's chords flowing from the phone recording - Em, G, Cmaj7, D... "Why do we always crave absolution? Why can't we put these ghosts to rest? Why won't we tell the dead to leave us alone? Why let the ghosts follow us home, to let our blood and leave us to roam? The dead should leave us alone--"

"I like the triplets and the duplets," Dane commented quietly from the doorway. "Very cute."

Jack let out a sigh as he looked up and away from the piano. "Well, we aren't all fancy assholes with pretty pieces of paper that say we're qualified to make music good."

"It is a nice thing to have." Dane lifted his cup of coffee with a small smile. "I like it, though. It's getting better."

There was still a quiet exhaustion in his face, and Jack knew it wasn't physical - Dane had slept just fine last night. He put the sheets with the notes down and rose from his seat. "Thanks," he said. "How are you holding up?"

One of Dane's shoulders slid up in a helpless shrug. "I'm okay--" he started. "Okay, no, that's bullshit. I'm sorry. I'm, I don't know. Stuck in some bad memories. I guess. It'll be fine."

Jack took a moment to roll his wrist, fiddling with the straps of his glove. Then he took a few steps, getting in closer, seeing the truth of that reflected in Dane's eyes. "Look, I know you're probably not eager to hear my Jedi zen therapy bullshit," he said. "But try and find a moment to sit with it for a while today, okay? Grab a break or something. Listen to the dulcet tones of cabs racing past, I don't know."

"Aye aye, Zen master," Dane said, a wry smile tugging on his mouth.

"And if you want, I can call the band, cancel our performance at the protest this weekend," Jack added casually. "Give you some time."

"And deprive you of a chance to yell 'fuck the system' in public?" Dane sipped his coffee. "I'm not that much of a monster."

Jack shook his head. He brushed a kiss against Dane's cheek before he passed him by. "Just think about it," he said.

"You tell Lana I said hi," Dane called over his shoulder.

"She agrees with me about the zen shit!" Jack called back.

He grabbed a thermos of coffee on his way out, shoving half a sandwich in his mouth. Lana was probably not going to be outside at 10 AM on the dot, right? He would be that lucky?

[[ for her ]]

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"You know, we got a lot of mileage out of rescuing a holostar," Lana said. "Don't underestimate music. Even if all it helps is you, it's worth it."

She sighed. "But yes, I suppose the more sentients you have in one place, the more they fail to get along. I won't quote the Sith code at you, but I don't think complete peace will ever be an option. Still, it managed a few hundred years between our wars, and apparently a few thousand before the ones in Sabine's time. That's not nothing."

"Unless there's just a bunch of wars we don't know about yet," Jack pointed out. "A few thousand years is a big gap. Can we say for sure my time was the only time the Republic came this close to collapse? That yours is the only one where some despot out of nowhere came swinging in to try and take over?"

"Probably not. And I'm sure there were a billion smaller wars on planets and within systems. But apparently no other galaxy-wide genocides, unless they were lost to history or she was sparing my feelings." She smiled wryly. "And she's Mandalorian, so probably not the latter."

"Because genocides are famous for going down in the history books if they're perpetrated by the winners," Jack said dryly.

But he realized what he was doing. "Sorry," he said. "The downside of getting time to myself for over a year. Too much thinking."

"You're not wrong about that," Lana admitted. "The first part, that is. And I haven't got access to their data to look through it for telltale signs. But the Republic still exists for a while, good or bad, which says something."

The Empire sort of self-imploded. Lana couldn't say she was surprised.

"No such thing as too much thinking, just don't let yourself get stuck. You know you can always call me up to come over and spar if you need. Or bitch at me. Though either runs the risk of me doing the same back."

"She says, like she's remotely terrifying."

The server came by with their drinks, and Jack reached for his immediately.

"The new album is probably going to be full of songs about me figuring myself out," he said. "At this rate the one after that is just going to be nothing but me railing at the state of the universe."

"Somehow I think the universe will survive your railing at it. And you only say that because you haven't seen me actually trying to be terrifying. I like to think I'm fairly good at it."

By normal standards, she absolutely could be. By standards of what Jack had been through, she probably didn't rate. She was fine with that.

"Yeah? You widen those big yellow eyes and crackle the lightning, huh?"

The instinct to grab onto any distraction from his genuine thoughts was real and probably would never go away entirely, but at least he was aware he was doing it.

"Narrow the eyes," Lana corrected. "Less 'puppy', more 'vicious Sith Lord' that way. A little lightning, a little lifting someone up and choking them goes a long way. I try to save the lopping off of limbs for last resort."

Jack sipped his lemonade. "Yeah, you're right," he said. "I've seen too many fucked-up Sith Lords in my life to be scared of you. Look at you. You haven't even lost a limb or gotten some kind of terrifying scar."

Lana chuckled. "Well, I wouldn't expect to scare you, but mercifully most of the people I need to intimidate haven't been through nearly as much. And I catch them by surprise due to the lack of shoulder spikes so big they need their own doorway."

Seriously, Sith fashion was insane.

"Shoulder spikes?" Jack asked, blinking. "That's a thing?"

Lana gasped in delight. "Was it not in your time? Oh, I will have to find you a Sith fashion holo. Whenever you need to laugh, it'll be perfect. You should see what Darth Vowrawn used to wear. Darth Marr actually pulls off the spikes as intimidating, but so many lords followed him, and believe me, they do not."

"I can safely say I have never seen a Sith with shoulder spikes," Jack agreed. "Who the hell approved that? That sounds like some kind of safety violation waiting to happen."

"Somewhere along the line, the fashion became to look as intimidating as possible." Lana took out her phone and started scrolling and searching. "Masks, spikes, visible cybernetics among those that have them...Ah! Here we go."

She turned it around so he could see. "Darth Marr, leader of the Dark Council for quite a while. Good to follow in battle or politics, terrible to follow in fashion."

"Why?" Jack had to ask. "What does he even use them for? Does he pick up vermin on the street and spike 'em up there for kicks? Is this meant to be some kind of intimidation thing? Because let me tell you, I have seen punk kids around here who do that to their hair."

Sparkle used to do something like that to their hair.

"Oh, it's definitely meant to be an intimidation thing," Lana said. "Only a few too many Sith forget that if you haven't got the attitude to back it up, it just looks ridiculous. Like putting lace on a hutt."

You were welcome for that mental image.

"Well, that one's going to feature in my nightmares," Jack muttered.

"You're welcome," Lana said. "I'm sure I can get Dr. Oggurobb to model something if I say it's for science. He's probably good-looking for a hutt."

New York City, Thursday

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