Private Doctor in the House?

[Darth Metus]

Darth Metus reached out.

Both hands gingerly cupped the bowed face of his daughter. Pride welled within his grasp. "Good. I do not have enough time to teach you the introduction by hand. Take this boon. Master it. And once you have, seek me once more."

The Darkness rained down upon her. Upon them.

Visions of the past would bleed into their minds. Glimpses of his first lessons in alchemy. Of a dark-haired woman, his first master, ordering his steps. They would witness the building blocks to alchemy. How to wield the Force to see objects at an atomic level and how to influence their makeup.

Armed with this knowledge, they could easily empower an object to resist lightsabers. Or they could grant a minor trait from one species to another. This was the most basic of instruction. The simplest of boons. What they did with it was up to them.

When it was all said and done, the Sith released his daughter and shuddered. A fresh fissure erupted across his chest, causing him to swear. "My time is short, oh daughter mine. Rest. Learn. Bow to Nothing."

And with thus, Darth Metus relented.

The two halves returned to a whole.

Damsy Callat​

 

[Damsy Callat]

Slowly, feeling poured back into Damsy's perception of the world. The body she now shared with who she was supposed to have been born instead had not lost sensation a moment of its switch in consciousness, but she herself had lost control. She had still seen, though, and heard. The lost sense came back like when the coattails of sleep finally pull off of a body that is awake but not yet active: cold adrenaline pooled in the muscle, an impossible ache, the ghosts of dreamland fears. All cascaded down her skin impossibly slow from her crown. It finally tingled across her right-hand fingertips, causing involuntary jerks that looked like her own little stretches rather than the flash flood of stimuli.

She suddenly reached across the counter for her father’s hand; if she found it, she would intertwine her fingers in his. The speed of a Shi’ido, even half, was like preemptive missile strike but not one meant to destroy an enemy. It was to seek support from a newfound ally.

She didn’t look up. She didn’t want to see him, but for once in most of her life that wasn’t a leveled insult. She didn’t want to see anything. Screwing her eyes closed, she shut out the room’s florescent light. Momentary relief came before she felt fire explode up her throat and tears seep down her cheeks.

“I-I’m…” she blubbered, “…sorry.”

For many things he might wordlessly understand or she might need to explain later.

That he had seen her like that.

That she had blamed Isley for Metus’ grand scheme.

That she had estranged from the first for so long.

That she had caused him so much embarrassment as Vicelord.

That he would never get a grandchild out of her.

That she was failing the cause she had forsaken his for.

That she had ruined his lunch.

Embarrassment couldn’t begin to cover it. She didn’t know emotions came this big, or this messy, and she had been through more than her share of tribulations, with the loss of one half of Omega then the other top of the list. If she was still reeling from that years later, and she was, then she would be feeling tonight even when laid to rest six feet under. Such cathartic sorrow set deep in the bones—or cartilage, as it were—and she could already feel it, like a parasitic worm, already boring into her foundations. It would be a change from which she would never recover, a eureka she would not be able to ignore. Partly, she felt disappointed in herself for not have figured it out. If she had spent more time with him, learning their heritage, she might have. And she felt guilty for how she had treated Naroh Se, the woman who had been like a mother for so many years of her life, after a sliver of the truth had come to light, but nothing as soul-shattering as this.

"Daddy, I'm so, so, so, so-sorry."

But she also felt sweet relief. Someone understood. For the first time since the incident, Damsy truly considered herself safe. Perhaps this revelation wouldn't be so devastating to either of them. Maybe it would build back a relationship instead of tearing it down, if only he would let her mix the mortar.



**
Darth Metus

 

[Darth Metus]

When she reached, she found his hand waiting.

The return of two halves to a single whole had not gone without damage. Now restored, Isley blinked for but a moment and grit his teeth against the fresh agony. The angry fissures began to close as he spared them a thought - but they would need actual attention later. What mattered now was the hand which clutched his own. The Siren's head was down as she held his fingers in her own - and he gave a light squeeze of knowing.

For years now, Isley did not know how to move when it came to his daughter. There were so few things that he got right. He felt like he had let her down, time and time again.

He wouldn't do so now.

Isley heard her every word - spoken and unspoken. And his reply was simple: embrace. His arms draped around her. Gently. Securely. She was safe. She was heard. And above all, she had nothing to apologize for.

"It's okay. It's always been okay." he said.

"You're my miracle. You've always been. Don't forget that."

Damsy Callat​

 

[Damsy Callat]

She didn't say anything more for some time.

The only sound was her crying onto the counter.

Until she sniffled, straightened up, but kept her hand in his, and said, "Let me fix this." There was a lot of this to fix, but on her next breath she defined where she'd start. "Where's medbay?"

At least she assumed that's what he needed. Even if he could close those nasty fissures with his mind, she could at least get him an asprin.

What was the harm in playing doctor twice in one day?



**
Darth Metus

 

[Darth Metus]

Let me fix this.

The Siren implored, holding fast to his hand. There was weight to her words - a more loaded sentence there wasn't. She then drew a steadying breath and asked where the medbay was.

Isley rolled his shoulders. "Couple levels down. But I've got a first aid cabinet behind you." He motioned with his chin and gave her hand a confident squeeze.

"A few bandages and I'll be right as rain. Promise."

Damsy Callat​

 

[Damsy Callat]

Damsy let go of her father's hand more slowly than one might, finally turning away to go to the cabinet. Inside, she found a few tight rolls of bandages. She took a few and set them on the counter. She then returned for a bottle of anti-inflammatories. It joined the other medical fixings, but it was she that unscrewed the lid first, and popped a single pill. Head thrown back, she swallowed it with no issue. The lid remained off for him but also potentially her once more.

Emotional headaches most likely had nothing on literally splitting ones, but then again she had a pretty low pain threshold for the former.

"You better," she teased. "Need any help?"

Depending on the answer, Damsy would get to work or go back to idling. In a few moments, when the air between them was quiet, she asked, "How long's it been for you?"



**
Darth Metus

 

[Darth Metus]

Isley first reached for the bottle procured by the Siren and joined her in popping a pill. What a father-daughter activity. He then reached for the bandages and set about putting himself back together. On the more irksome fissures, she'd feel the touch of darkness brim within hands. It'd take some doing, but he kept to his word.

"I'm all good, but thank you." he answered. "This was mild compared to how it used to be. Spontaneous combustion was never fun."

He chuckled aloud at the memory. But mentally cringed as he remembered the scent of his tongue boiling.

The Siren then asked him a question, one that gave him pause.

"Since Metus got in the picture? At least twenty years at this point. Can't remember exactly."

"It gets...easier as time goes on. And if you 'work out your differences' like we did, well, you'll look as great as I do when you hit your sixties."

Damsy Callat​

 

[Damsy Callat]

"Since Metus got in the picture?"

She nodded once.

"And if you 'work out your differences' like we did, well, you'll look as great as I do when you hit your sixties."

Then shook her head.

"I dunno if I want to," she admitted, though that much probably wouldn't come as a surprise. "Work 'em out, that is. I-I just—" She sighed and looked down at the counter again. She fumbled with a few drawers until she found what she was looking for: a toothpick that she put between her molars. Only then did she glance back up. "I'm grateful that I exist, but I was never the biggest fan o' the way I turn into the bottom 'alf of a fish. Ever since you, the real you, took me into your kingdom, or what it usta be, I 'ventually just accepted it as a way things had to be. But now? With her in the picture?

"Dad, I'm scared. Of what I am all over 'gain. Of what I can...what she can make me do. Of how he made us. 'Cause I think he made the 'me' half too, whether I like it or not."



**
Darth Metus

 

[Darth Metus]

"I feel that. I didn't want to work things out either."

The admission was honest and filled the quiet whilst Damsy fumbled in the drawers. When she spoke again, Isley was silent. A large part of him wanted to try and "fix" things - to find the best answer to remedy this problem. But...in this moment, she needed more than that.

"What you are is a miracle. Yes, you can swim very fething well, but you were always going to be born with power. You're my daughter after all." He gave her hand a squeeze.

"Your power isn't something to fear. It's a tool - and it needs a master. You. The stronger you are, the more sure and sound you are, the harder it is for you to lose."

"I'm with you in this till the end of the line. I promise."

Damsy Callat​

 

[Damsy Callat]

Darth Metus​

She smiled despite herself when he said she was a miracle.

And bowed her head like a shy child when he said complimented her ability to swim.

But she looked back up at him at the mention of being his daughter and the power that brought.

"Yeah, nothin' to fear," she repeated with altogether less conviction. "Sure. Easier said that done." Damsy straightened up against the counter. She spit out the toothpick and leaned over to throw it in the trash. Chewing on it had done next to nothing for her nerves. "I'm still in shock from Dagobah. This...thing, it latched onto me an' read my—well, Syreni's—mind. Brought it up from the depths of, I dunno, my subconscious or sumthin'."

Damsy took a step back, running a hand over her face. She continued speaking like that, her voice slightly muffled by her hand. "I was still processing whatever awakenin' happened to me on Atrisia. I didn't want any o' this Force chit is what I'm trynna say. I was perfectly content brute force swinging my trident 'round."

 

[Darth Metus]

Her smile made him smile.

"Seems you're the spittin' image of me, then." he said, chuckling a bit as she disposed of her toothpick. The Sith did not elaborate for a moment, but rather reached under the cabinet. Two glasses. He then turned, rummaged through the cupboard, and produced a bottle of netra'gal. He gave her a wink, as if to say this works better before continuing.

"When I was your age, I hated 'damn forcies.' Us good Mando folk were always warring with em. I didn't have a choice though."

He uncorked the bottle and poured them both a hearty sum.

"Got captured and hung out an airlock. Given a choice: become Sith or die. 'Easy' choice." He shook his head. "All that to say, even when the option is taken from us, we determine what we are."

"In my heart, I'll always be the same Mandalorian. Even though I can eat the afterlife."

He sipped his beverage casually.

Damsy Callat

 

[Damsy Callat]

Darth Metus​

"Even though I can eat the afterlife."

Her smile became a chuckle. She took a sip of the netra'gal. It kicked her in the teeth through a sweet and otherwise mellow tang—fish weren't supposed to drink, after all, but this one did anyway.

She sighed then replied, "I'll be an Omega forever in my bones." She shook her head. "I know I messed that up so fethin 'ard, but that chit was formative. I left Kamino a pretty blank slate. All I knew from that first day off world was change, an' difference, an' tolerance."

She looked up at Isley. "It's why I'm here where I am today, no doubt." But maybe, probably, he already knew that. "The Dauntless took me all over the South and beyond. Nothing ever phased me—not species, not gender, not religion, not creed, or Force Sensitivity... Until this. Her. Dad, I don't like her."

Damsy flexed the fingers of one hand out of, then back into, a fist around her glass. She took another sip. "Did I ever tell you what she did to Naroh Se?"

 

[Darth Metus]

She shook her head. "I know I messed that up so fethin 'ard, but that chit was formative. I left Kamino a pretty blank slate. All I knew from that first day off world was change, an' difference, an' tolerance."

"Round these parts, we call that 'character development." he answered, chuckling himself before taking another swig. Gods above it tasted like home.

She then mentioned Naroh Se - the Kaminoan caretaker who had been there every step of the way. He hadn't heard that name in years - and had no inkling that anything had befallen her.

"You hadn't. Is she alive?"

Given the nature of her darker sibling, he had to ask.

Damsy Callat​

 

[Damsy Callat]

"Murder. Cold blood." Damsy suppressed a shiver, both from the news and the alcohol. They burned equally, ironically. Her adoptive mother's lost life should have bothered her much more than it did, but she was more angry at Syreni for doing it rather than why she did it. "After the AoC invaded Ryloth."

Until halfway through that battle, Damsy Callat had been going by Niobe Crowe, a Knights Obsidian rather than a Major of the Dauntless Legion. It had taken her all that time since the Atrisian Outbreak to realize that what had happened to her there—the sudden onset of Force Sensitivity—was in a rather direct way the Kaminoan's fault. Of course, Naroh Se had not brought the Blackwing Virus to the planet, nor had she set its zombies upon Damsy to overwhelm her at Xiaolang Canal, but she had hidden away the hybrid woman's natural inclinations in the early years of her life.

She did it to protect Damsy from Darth Metus , or so she had said when accosted about her reasonings.

Syreni took over from there, and before Damsy knew it, they were leaving Tipoca in blood-stained anti-morph armor.

No one dared question her on the hyperspace jump back to Scarif.