“We—”

No, wait, try again.

“I want to be awake if I can.”

"That's fine. We can give you local anaesthesia instead. And it will be safer to use a nerve block, so you can't move that arm, but we can do it without if you'd rather."

“...that sounds fine.”

They won’t have to restrain the arm. That’ll be easier.

And she'll be right there if he needs her.

The doctor nods, and a minute later Dr. Mabbet comes over. "They just finished up in suite five; we can have it in half an hour. Do you have any questions about the surgery?"

He has a few. How long will he be in there? How does he take care of it once he’s out? What kind of complications can there be?

It'll take about four hours; they'll have a holoprojector in the room for them to watch something on, or music. This part is low-maintenance unless there are complications; his regular doctor will need to check it out at his regular checkup, but that's all. (Yes, he can learn to do it himself, though if he finds a problem he should have it looked at by a professional.) Complications are rare and mostly just the usual risks of surgery - shock, bleeding, infection - plus a small chance that his body will reject the implant or that one or more of his nerves won't join to it properly. His excellent prognosis means that this last is particularly unlikely; she'll be able to do a Kindrick join with most of them, which means if it goes well he'll have better control of the arm than usual, and even if it doesn't, he'll just have regular amounts of control.

(He’s so proud of his body.)

He absorbs all of the information carefully and thanks her in advance for what she’s about to do.

She acknowledges his thanks, and Dr. Deyne suggests that they go back to their room to get changed; he'll come for them when the suite is ready.

They can take that suggestion.

They can both walk, too, but he doesn't let go of her hand all the way back to the room.

(When they get out of here and back to the world, they're going to have to be more circumspect. But for now, this is so good.)

Daisy isn't back yet, but someone has been in to tidy the room. Their dirty clothes are gone, and there's a change of clothes on the table for them, tee shirts and sweatpants in nondescript heather grey.

guess they want us looking less...sithy.

I dunno, they could have just left us in the bathrobes. She shrugs hers off and pulls on a pair of pants, settling her 'saber holster over them without bothering to take it off.

He gets rid of his as well and starts the slightly inconvenient business of dressing himself, using her hands when it becomes clear it's not going to work very well with just his one.

She's not going to miss this, exactly, but it's still nice to be able to do it for him.

It's nice that he has her hands, even if he won't always need them. Maybe someday she'll have his, too.

(He doesn't think she'll need them. But if she ever does, if she ever wants them, they're for her to use.)

He leans his head on her shoulder when they're dressed.

And she wraps her arms around him and kisses the top of his head. They have a little while, maybe they can take just a little nap.

They're dozing dreamily when Dr. Deyne shows up to bring them to the surgery.

When the door opens he shoots upright and scrambles back in the bed

before he remembers, again, where they are.

(He hopes this doesn't last much longer.)

we're going.

Her hand's already on her lightsaber by the time he realizes; she pauses for a second before taking it away.

Yeah. Yeah, we are. She squeezes his hand. We'll be done with this soon.

He squeezes back.

and off to fuck knows what else.

World's our oyster.

And off they go. Pradnakt looks ahead for Dr. Mabbet, and focuses on her as they approach. She's a little nervous, but mostly calm as she prepares for the surgery; it's reasonably soothing to watch, and nicely reassuring that she doesn't have anything sinister in mind.

It's helpful. No ill-intent, nothing suggesting she can't do her job.