A Music Venue in Brooklyn, Sunday Evening

[suitably_heroic]

Yes, Jack believed all the Force users in the multiverse could use a few lessons in doing normal people things more often. He had frequently coerced, wheedled, and poked several of them into it over the years. But this? Making Lana Beniko, ex-Sith spymaster, man the merch booth?

Had to be his greatest achievement.

It maybe gave a little extra oomph to his performance that evening.

It was also when, after they were done, one of the first things he did was haul his sweaty ass back to the merch stand. "Sooo," he said, grinning. "How are we doing?"

[[ for a lana ]]

Comments

[suitably_heroic]

Jack shoved his hands into his pockets and looked straight ahead. His voice was very dry. "I have it on good authority most people don't wake up in the morning thinking that they're worth nothing and don't deserve to be here, unless they live up to what they think someone else would've wanted them to be."

[unusual_sith]

"That would be a bit of an extreme example," Lana agreed.

[suitably_heroic]

"That's not an extreme example," Jack said. He waved at his head. "That's how my diagnosed broken brain works."

[unusual_sith]

Lana wasn't sure what to say to that, so she nodded.

[suitably_heroic]

"And it's annoying," Jack muttered, dropping his hand. "Nobody ever tells you therapy feels a lot like playing dodgeball against yourself."

[unusual_sith]

Lana nudged him. "It wouldn't be as hard if you weren't so good at attacking yourself. I'd think there's a sort of strange pride in that."

[suitably_heroic]

"Yeah," Jack said, nodding. "My crippling mental health problems would definitely be less hard if I had fewer crippling mental health problems."

[unusual_sith]

"Not like that!" If Lana sounded a bit frustrated, it was mostly at herself for being bad at this. "I meant the dodgeball. But non-metaphorically, all the habits and problems - they're bad now, but they helped you survive, or they wouldn't be sticking around so long."

[suitably_heroic]

Oh, come on, Lana-- there was another sarcastic comment at the tip of his tongue.

This time, though, Jack caught it before it made its way out.

"Lana," he said. "Look. I know you're trying, and I appreciate it. It's just... this stuff is complicated. It's why I didn't manage to unknot it until I hit rock bottom and wound up in--" ... an inpatient facility, but he wasn't going to say that, so, "... therapy."

He took a turn. Close to the restaurant.

"Basically, bad stuff started happening to me pretty early," he said, "and then it kept happening, and somewhere along the line the grey matter in my skull decided to slice and rewire itself into a really defensive protocol that is nearly impossible to return to what it's supposed to be."

[unusual_sith]

"I do know it's complicated," Lana admitted. "That doesn't keep me from wanting to just fix it for you." She sighed. "Though my point stands - you needed that defense to survive. Our galaxy is a messed-up place."

She threw up her hands. "Maybe we all just need to move here. The whole Alliance. Invade the place one at a time. Or terraform Mars."

[suitably_heroic]

"Speaking as the only one who's actually capable of fixing me, I've been trying to do it for the past five years, and this is about as far as I've gotten," Jack said, not unkindly. "And I'd like it if you didn't import a space war into my new home. Mars, maybe."

[unusual_sith]

"No wars," Lana promised. "Only reasonable aliens allowed. Here or Mars."

She gave him a smile. "And you seem to be doing fairly well so far."

[suitably_heroic]

"Haven't run screaming from people who care about me in several years now," Jack said brightly. "Progress! Well. Unless you count Mical."

He gestured towards a small restaurant on the side of the street.

[unusual_sith]

"I don't count Mical," Lana assured him. "His status as Grandmaster overrides his caring."

She diverted toward the restaurant and grabbed the door for them both. "It smells good."