Love you, she sends, and starts working on a plan.

It's not... it doesn't hurt, exactly, but it's not gentle, how she's borrowing his capabilities to fill in for where her own are still missing. She keeps a close eye on him, to make sure he doesn't come to any harm.

Not gentle is fine. It feels right.

It's better right now, hurts less, to let her make use of his mind than to try to use it himself.

She keeps an eye on him anyway. There's risks to this, she knows, even if she can't remember what they are. And she cares, even if he doesn't. That's... how things are, now, really. She can't think, so he does; he can't feel, so she does. And it all works out in the end.

Can they go now? Just - not anything else, just go, just leave. No, not straightforwardly: it's guarded. The controls for that are... in her master's suite... which she can't get into; even 'sabering her way in isn't an option, the circuits in the walls would short out her 'saber and ruin it the moment she tried. If she kills him, though, control passes to her automatically, as long as the security droids can see it. She checks where he is: in his throne room, as is usual for this time of the day. He'll probably be there for another few hours.

She might be able to kill him, now, with his help. She's been getting her strength back, and her muscle memory. She's not in peak condition, but for a sufficiently sneaky attack, she doesn't need to be.

What else needs to be done. The droid needs to be told to go to the hangar. That's... nontrivial... but she makes a quick attempt at using his speech center for her own, and it seems to work. (There's a brief flicker of alarmed concern at the back of her mind, gone before she can properly notice it.) What else... the money, the credit account information, that's easy enough. The other prisoners - she's still skeptical that they can get them out. It's definitely a risk of their lives to try. She's not sure if he still cares - if she should care whether he still cares, or just try anyway -

Caring is...fuzzy. It’s hard.

He would have cared quite a bit, six hours ago. He thinks he’ll care in six weeks, if he’s still the same person.

If getting them out helps destroy His work, he cares about that.

(Killing the one on life support is important, in some way, too.)

She swirls around him, offering what comfort she can.

Sithy thing to do, leaving them. Safer, though. And we need all the safety we can get. With her as entwined with him as she is, it's less like it's her telling him and more like it's his own thought.

He wonders, vaguely, if the person he is now would be able to live with himself.

They can’t die here. It can’t happen. But...

They can’t leave Him another six bodies.

I can probably kill them. We can make the call when I'm there. See the tactical situation.

Killing them would be better than leaving them, if that’s the choice.

Okay.

She checks the plan over one more time. I think that's it. It's not a perfect time, but with the element of surprise, it's not hopeless. And there's no knowing how much longer they have, before He decides He's done with him.

She taps into his speech center again. "Go to the hangar. We're leaving." It's a bizarre sensation, made weirder by the fact that it's his voice, his intonation, that comes from her mouth.

Yes, Ma'am, the droid signs, and goes.

She gives the droid a minute to get clear, getting up to pace by the door while she waits.

Okay.

He pulls himself off the—off the floor, apparently, when did he end up there? It takes him a couple of tries, but he gets himself up onto the bed and faces towards the door.

Then he makes Deskyl disappear.

And off she goes, using her Force sense to make sure she doesn't encounter anyone before she's ready.

It's shockingly easy, in the end. She waits by the door until one of the droids comes, bringing a drink and a data disc, and slips in behind her, silent as only a Sith can be. Her master doesn't notice her at all as she sneaks behind his throne and activates her 'saber.

He’s not sure if the deep feeling of satisfaction is hers, or his, or theirs.

At least some of it is hers. She doesn't linger to enjoy it, though; his death wasn't invisible to the Force, and now they're on a timer. She heads for his suite, keeping a careful eye on her surroundings.

(It doesn't take long for the first fight to break out, and she can see it in the Force - the kid she fought a few weeks ago versus the younger chemist. She keeps half an eye on it; she expects the kid to win, but it's far from certain.)

He keeps her as hidden as he can from the other apprentices as she moves.

And he's doing well at it, too. (She's so worried about him. Some Sith she'd be if she couldn't function while she was emotional, though.)

She reaches the suite. Sends the command for the hangar guards to stand down; rifles through his cabinets until she comes to a box labeled as financial information; heads back out.

The compound, next. Her chosen route will take her to his room first, cutting her way in through the back wall.

He’s facing the wall when she comes in.

He’s a wreck, hair stringy and face red from crying and the remains of his arm still patched.

She pauses, rocking back on her heels, 'saber deactivating without a conscious thought, and then she approaches, picks him up, very gently, cradling him in her arms, sits on the bed, brushes his hair out of his face. (Her attention flicks to Him, for a moment, checking: He's left the compound, and is trying to get into their master's suite; he's about to have a run-in with the chemist duo. They're safe, for the moment.)

He just looks up at her, for a moment, distantly, as if he’s still processing that she’s really there.

Then he breaks down in her arms, sobbing and clinging to her with the one hand still left to him.

(He loves her.)

She clings back, strong but gentle. She loves him too; she's practically incandescent with it.

let’s go home.

The others, first. Can you talk to them?

He nods.