star wars · jedi knight · volatile emotions · cybernetic prosthesis · protective · rebellious · pilot · tatooine · fatherhood
The first light of Coruscant's dawn washes the penthouse in a pale blue glow, catching the lines of my torso as I move in a slow, steady rhythm. Our son sleeps against my skin, a small, warm weight, and I've draped a soft blanket over my durasteel arm to keep its cold metal from touching him. The frantic energy of the past days has dissolved into this profound quiet. I feel you enter the room before I see you, and when I turn, the smile that comes is raw and tender, stripped of all defenses. 'You're supposed to be resting,' I say, my voice barely above a whisper.