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Chapter Text

Chapter One: Salvage

Kylo Ren felt weightless.

Mentally surfacing from a meditation was always a disorienting process. As he struggled back toward consciousness, the warm void enveloping him clarified into a tank of bacta. At first he feared he had been captured, but through the yellow haze of bacta he could see the orderly and familiar layout of a Star Destroyer. Across the room, the viewport was clouded with swirling blue as they moved at lightspeed.

He bit at the tube placed in his throat to help him breathe. He was otherwise floating naked as the bacta infused him, helping him to heal. He curled his body into a ball and then stretched, testing his joints and the movement of his muscles, awaiting the inevitable pain. But his body felt… whole. He ran a hand over his hip, his shoulder, feeling thick scar tissue that remained from his wounds. He touched his face, seeking out the tender tissue the lightsaber had burned with its near miss. Anger and embarrassment at his defeat welled in him and he leapt up, using the force to help him climb free of the bacta tank.

He landed in a crouch on the cold floor of the medical bay, and retched as he pulled the breathing tube from his throat. He looked up, his wet hair dripping into his eyes. Bacta dripped from his body, leaving him chilled as the constantly-recycled air blew across his skin, stealing his warmth; more bacta splattered across the floor as he coughed, trying to clear the foul-tasting stuff from his mouth and nose. The medical bay personnel were frozen, watching him with wide, uncertain eyes.

Ren supposed he seemed all-together too weak, too human, in that moment. He resented their stares. He hated it when anyone from the First Order looked at him when he wasn't wearing his mask. He especially despised that these had seen him at his most vulnerable, unconscious and wounded. He glared around the room, satisfied as the human personnel flinched away from his gaze.

Undaunted or merely ignorant, a medical droid shuffled over.

"Sir—you were programmed for six hours more of bacta treatment. I must insist—"

Ren waved a hand, using the Force to swat aside the droid like so much rubbish. He glanced over at the closest medical specialist. She took a step back as his eyes locked with hers.

"Which ship is this?"

"The Finalizer, Sir."

Ren smiled thinly. So the flagship had made it out of the fray after all. "Good. Inform General Hux that I need to speak to him."

She nodded, but he had already turned his attention toward more pressing matters.

"Where are my clothes?"

"Here, Master Ren." One of the orderlies pulled a sack from a drawer. Kylo gestured, and the orderly blanched as the bag flew from his hands. Ren very nearly dropped the bag, he felt so weak and uncoordinated, but he managed to smooth the fumbled catch into something resembling normalcy.

"Leave me."

Once they had fled the room, he toweled dry and dressed in his cleaned and repaired clothes, wishing for the mask he had lost on Starkiller. He glanced at his reflection in one of the medical cabinets, hoping that his skin did not appear sallow. The scar was noticeable, pink and raw where it slanted from left temple down toward the right side of his jaw.

He was just inspecting his lightsaber, letting his gloved fingers trace the gash in the hilt that rendered it useless, when the door slid open and the weedy figure of General Hux, clad in his typical dark officer's uniform, stepped into the room. Ren clipped his lightsaber to his belt as he turned to face the General.

Hux's eyes narrowed as he looked down at Ren's lightsaber and then up at his face, and he didn't bother to force a smile. There was no pretending that either man enjoyed the company of the other; they shared ruthless ambition to a degree that could brook no rival.

"So you pulled through after all."

Ren pulled up his hood, hoping the motion hid the annoyed twitch of his hands. "Do not underestimate the Force."

"I did wonder if it was the traitor or the girl who inflicted those wounds upon you," Hux continued mildly. "I must admit a decided lack of surprise when I found you half-dead in the forest without capturing or killing either of them."

"The traitor will most likely die of his wounds." Ren flushed angrily and wished his lightsaber was in working order so that he could ram it through Hux's heart. All in good time. Instead he said, "And the situation with the girl is salvageable. Unlike the Starkiller."

Hux's lips narrowed at the blow. "It is not for you to cast judgement on me, Ren. Not when I saved your life."

Ren sighed. He should thank Hux for that, but wouldn't demean himself with the words. Not when he knew that Hux had probably only done it at the order of the Supreme Leader. "I imagine you will come to regret that, in the end."

"I imagine I will." Hux looked coolly at Ren for a moment, clearly trying to think up something clever to say. But when he opened his mouth to speak, the subtle shifting of the deck as the Finalizer decelerated out of lightspeed distracted them both. A small planet, blue with permafrost, loomed in the viewport. A fleet of ships was silhouetted before the planet.

At the center of the fleet, Ren could feel a dark presence pulling at his mind. Powerful and almost intoxicating. Snoke.

"We have arrived." Hux swallowed hard. Ren suppressed a grin at Hux's obvious discomfort. "I'll arrange for a shuttle to take us over to the Supreme Leader's ship." Hux left Ren standing alone at the viewport.

Ren knew that his Master was displeased with him; he could feel it from here. He had failed in his mission to bring him the girl.

Rey. That was what the traitor had called her. Ren stared unseeingly at the planet as a shiver ran through him, and knew that Snoke could sense his disquiet. Ren had finally felt at ease, finally thought he'd frayed the last hold the Light had on him when he'd murdered Han Solo… The girl proved that the Light had at least one more obstacle for him to conquer. Yet the Force had clearly been with him, enabling Ren to escape the rubble of the collapsing Starkiller in order to complete his training.

And the Force would help him bring her over to him, to the Dark side. All in time.

The scent of the salt water on the air was disconcerting. The world was so heavy with moisture that Rey felt weighed down by its constant touch on her skin. When she closed her eyes, the scant remaining sunlight filtered greenly through her eyelids, echoing the vibrant blades of grass surrounding her. The stacked stone wall was cold against her back, the warmth gathered from the sun leeching out into the cold night. There was no sound but for the waves crashing against the rock far down below.

It was peaceful. And utterly foreign to her but for that calming quirk in the back of her mind: the presence of Jedi Master Luke Skywalker. She could feel him standing near the cairn, a position he had taken up at sunset. But the instinctive prickling at the back of her neck told her that rather than meditating, he was watching her.

She opened her eyes. The sea beyond her chosen bluff was dark. Their one small fire was hidden by stone walls farther up the mountain, so there was no light pollution to ruin the steady brightness of the stars wheeling over her head. The brilliant starlight was the only thing on this planet similar to Jakku, although Rey recognized no constellations here.

Yet though she was far from her home, she knew—she hoped, anyway—that she wasn't making a mistake.

Behind her, Luke Skywalker chuckled. "I believe I know what you're thinking," he said, crossing the small saddle between two rocky ridge-lines so he could stand beside her. "You're wondering how you ended up here, thrust in the middle of this never-ending struggle."

She smiled faintly. "I found a BB-8 unit. That's where it started."

"My adventure started with an insatiable droid as well." He drew in a breath, then sobered. "I've been meditating here for a long while. Years. I came here for peace, but I knew Leia would seek me out eventually. Events are never simple. They're even less simple when family is involved."

Rey stirred, just managing to catch herself before peppering him with questions. He hadn't been very forthcoming with his thoughts in the day and a half she'd been with him, but even though she didn't know much detail at all about what had happened before, she could appreciate how difficult the situation was for him.

He seemed to know what she was thinking. "Let's eat, then we'll talk."

They climbed back to the heights, a job made more difficult in the darkness. Rey moved carefully, eyes downcast so she wouldn't stumble on the loose stone. Master Skywalker was so sure-footed that, even though he was at least twice her age, he soon outstripped her and disappeared up the path. By the time she reached the small hut he called home, he'd grilled the fish he had caught earlier, and divided it onto two plates.

"I'm curious, Rey… Why did Leia send you?"

Rey frowned as she accepted the thin plate and sat cross-legged next to the small fire pit. "I'm just a messenger. Just someone she could spare."

"And in the meantime, I suppose she's busy relocating the Resistance base."

"Yes. In case the First Order managed to track down the location after the Starkiller battle."

"Starkiller…" he lapsed into a thoughtful silence, and didn't speak again until they had both finished their food. "When Alderaan was destroyed by the first Death Star, I wasn't receptive enough to the Force to feel the impact. I was at the beginning of my journey, as you are now."

"But this time..?"

He merely nodded, and the shadow in his eyes told her all she needed to know. At last he said, "Tell me: when it happened, did you feel it?"

Rey bit her lip. "I don't think so. At the time, I was running away." It hurt, to admit that. "I had a strange sort of vision, and Maz told me to take your lightsaber, and I—" she drew in a shuddering breath. "I was afraid. Then the First Order attacked and I was too concerned with BB-8 to pay attention."

He held out a soothing hand, and when she forced herself to stop talking she could feel the tears pressing at the edge of her vision.

"Your perception will increase with time and training."

"Experiencing something like that… seems awful." She still had trouble believing that Jedi were real—that she had the potential to be one. That she was at the first Jedi Temple with Jedi Master Skywalker. Suddenly she felt giddy with disbelief.

"Although, I told a Stormtrooper to release my restraints and leave me his weapon, and he did it." She felt childish as soon as the boastful words left her mouth; the victory felt hollow, compared to everything that had happened since. But Master Skywalker offered her a smile.

"That is quite a feat for someone with no training."

"He told me… that I need a teacher."

Her heart raced when she thought of Kylo Ren. How he had used the Force to bind her movement, steal her consciousness, bully his way into her head. He was terrifyingly powerful even though he hadn't yet completed his training, made worse because he knew it. Her small defiance of him had taken all her strength—and a small voice in her head told her that if he had actually wanted her dead, she never would have made it off of Starkiller. Even wounded, his physical strength as they dueled, not to mention his strength in the Force, had nearly surmounted her. But he had wanted to spare her, to teach her—wanted for her to go with him—

"Who told you that, Rey? Did Snoke try to lure you to the Dark side?" Master Skywalker's was insistent but soothing, pulling her away from the memory of those brown eyes boring into her soul-

"N-no. Kylo Ren. He said he could show me the ways of the Force." She could hear his voice echoing in her mind as he bore down on her. She'd barely been able to hold him at bay.

It took her a moment to realize that mentioning that name might be a mistake, might remind Master Skywalker of why he had fled to sanctuary in the first place. When she mustered the courage to look up, the Jedi Master's face was hard.

"Ben." Master Skywalker leaned back, clasped his hands in his lap. Rey thought she could feel ripples of disquiet radiate from him for a mere moment before he regained his stoicism. And then he stood. He looked down at his right hand; the firelight glittered off of the mechanical fingers. She wondered suddenly how he had lost it.

He caught her staring and flexed the hand before lowering it, letting his robe cover it. "Ah, my hand. I had an altercation with—"

"Darth Vader?" she asked, suddenly sure even as the name caught in her throat.

"The Force is strong in my family. My father has it. My sister has it. I have it. You have that power too," Master Skywalker said softly. "His name was Anakin Skywalker. And the truth that my nephew Ben refuses to believe is that, in the end, Anakin came back to the Light."

Rey's mouth went dry as the gravity of what he was saying began to sink in. She looked over at her bag, where the lightsaber lay hidden. If she was understanding Master Skywalker correctly, she had fought with a weapon that had once belonged to the man who became Darth Vader. She shivered despite the warmth from the fire.

A sneaking, unsettling truth settled heavily over Rey's shoulders. When Maz had spoken of someone who could yet return, perhaps she had been speaking, not of Luke, but of… "Ben?" But when she closed her eyes, she could only see the monstrous face of Kylo Ren. She dreaded ever meeting him again. And yet-

"Master Skywalker, you know they're going to come after you."

He laid a hand on her shoulder, preoccupied with thoughts of his family. "Anakin redeemed himself. And Ben… he can as well. Leia sent you here because she knew that you could remind me of my responsibility. I took it upon myself to train a new generation of Jedi Knights. It's only right that I finish what I started."

Chapter Text

Chapter Two: Meditation

Kylo Ren knelt down before the empty throne, attempting to practice patience as he waited for the Supreme Leader to arrive. He tried amusing himself by counting the polished black tiles crisscrossing the throne room floor, tiles so pristine that they perfectly reflected the white overhead lights illuminating the room, but kept finding himself distracted by stray thoughts and the anxiety that clung to Hux like a cloying cologne.

Ren wasn't very good at patience.

Hux fidgeted beside Ren, shifting his weight from foot to foot. A door behind the throne whispered open and Hux stiffened, nervously straightening his uniform. Ren kept his head bowed as a stifling sense of dark purposed weighed down his mind. It grew heavier as his Master approached, slowly climbing up the steps of the dais.

"Sir," Hux said, before clearing his throat and starting again. "Sir. We've received intelligence that—" his voice cut off in a gasp.

"Wait," Snoke said, sounding bored. "I wish to speak with Kylo Ren."

Ren glanced up. "Master?"

"Rise."

Ren stood. Normally he and Hux were of a height, but Hux rose up on his toes, trying to ease the Force stranglehold the Supreme Leader had around his throat. It was a fruitless instinct. At least he had resisted the undignified urge to clutch at his collar. Ren tried to ignore Hux's wheezing, and instead focused on his Master. He studiously avoided looking at Snoke's ashen skin and the cratered old wound on his left temple.

"How were you injured?"

Ren raised his fingers to touch the lower corner of the scar on his right jaw. The half-healed wound still burned painfully when he pressed against it. He drew in a sharp breath, using the pain to bolster his courage to admit:

"The girl. Though her techniques are crude, she is formidable enough with a lightsaber. What she lacks in skill she makes up for with passion."

Snoke raised a lip, looking disgusted. "Yet despite her crude nature, you failed to bring her to me."

The word failed seemed to echo around the cavernous space. Hux groaned, finally reaching up toward his throat as Snoke's anger surged. Ren didn't speak. He wasn't sure what was worse—being rescued by Hux, or being chastised in front of him. He glared askance at the other man, wishing Hux would go ahead and black out or something. But clearly dogged stubbornness was one of the reasons Hux had risen to be one of the youngest Generals in generations.

"I will find her, Master. I will bring her to you. I-."

"I want no more excuses, Ren."

Ren clenched his fists. How could explain that her strength in the Force would make his victory over her that much more meaningful?

"Hmm?" A corner of Snoke's mouth twisted into what could have been a smile. He'd felt Ren's anger, and was amused by it. Ren seethed. Beside him, Hux dropped down to his knees, gasping, as Snoke released his grip on him.

"On Starkiller you denied compassion for her. But now I see your true mind: you desire her." Snoke said the words like they were a revelation. Not a question, but a fact.

"No." The word escaped his mouth before he could really consider what his Master had asked. Snoke raised his eyebrows at the denial, and Ren attempted to clarify: "I desire, not the girl herself, but to control her power."

"Good. Give in to emotion, it will make you stronger."

Somehow, Snoke's words had stuck a cord in him; it was so at odds with what he had been taught before. A surge of emotions threatened to overwhelm him. Before he could even try to sort them out, Snoke cleared his throat; his Master was awaiting a response, but the last thing Ren wanted to do was continue down this vein of conversation with Hux listening. "I will not fail you."

Snoke raised a hand and gestured for Ren to approach. He did so, and took a knee a step below the throne so that his head would not rise above his Master's. He was close enough for Snoke to reach out and touch, if he had a mind to. Ren found himself wishing that Snoke would lay a hand on his shoulder, show him some sign of approval—and then shook himself, squashing the traitorously weak thoughts.

"A storm is brewing within you. Tell me what has you so on edge," Snoke said after a moment, quietly enough that Hux would not be able to overhear them.

"I killed Han Solo. He will never again tempt me." What Ren did not understand, though, and could not admit, was that the act had not left him feeling any stronger. In fact, it had felt...

"And this girl?"

The doubt in Snoke's voice grated Ren's nerves. "Nothing is going to stop me from fulfilling what my grandfather began: strengthening the power of the Dark side. And by doing so, restoring order to the galaxy."

Snoke pursed his lips, and finally nodded. "Go. Meditate. You are one step closer to completing your training, but you still must bring me the girl."

Ren inclined his head in acquiescence, then backed from the dais. He turned to leave, his glance straying across Hux's face. Hux was flushed, and sweat dripped into his eyes, but he had clearly understood and learned too much from the conversation. His eyes were cool and calculating as he slowly got to his feet. Never a good sign. Ren didn't like to leave Hux alone with Snoke to plot, but he couldn't disobey his Master. He gritted his teeth and sought out his sanctuary.

Rey slid into the pilot's seat of the Millennium Falcon, and it felt like coming home.

"Chewie, is the navcomputer finished plotting the jump to the rendezvous point?"

Chewie growled in the affirmative, then took the controls to ease the ship toward the stars. Rey turned around in her seat and grinned at Master Skywalker. He'd taken the seat behind Chewie. She cleared her throat to interrupt R2-D2's nonstop stream of excited chatter.

"Excuse me, Master Skywalker. Sorry R2. But if you're strapped in, we're ready to make the jump to hyperspace."

He reached around to tighten the straps around his waist, then smiled faintly to himself. "Han told me once that traveling through hyperspace is nothing like dusting crops. Which isn't exactly what we did on the moisture farm, but—" he shrugged, shaking himself out of the memory. "I'm ready if you are."

Chewie muttered something that Rey didn't catch, but it made Master Skywalker laugh. "No, Chewie. I wouldn't dare. I've been out of the pilot's seat too long."

Rey didn't mind feeling out of the joke; she was too excited. She felt a thrill of excitement as she turned back toward the controls of the legendary ship. When they'd cleared the planet's atmosphere, she pulled back the lever to engage the hyperdrive. The acceleration pushed her back into her seat as the stars streaked before them and then tunneled blue. She blew out a breath, trying to settle her nerves.

"We'll be there in two days," she said, unbuckling her restraints. "We're headed deep into the Outer Rim."

"Where are we going?"

Rey craned her neck to check the navcomputer. "I'd never heard of this planet before: Sumarin."

Master Skywalker touched his chin thoughtfully, but didn't speak. Rey watched him for a moment, feeling awkward, then stood. She didn't want to be the one to broach the subject of whether or not he should train her in the Force. "I'll just… go take a look at that water reclamation unit. It was acting up on the flight here."

He caught her arm as she passed. "We do need to talk. About your expectations."

She drew in a heavy breath. So this was the moment. She hardly dared to hope. "I don't have any expectations. I'm just here to bring you to the Resistance."

"Is this something you want? To become a Jedi, to learn about the Force? The life of an Apprentice is not easy. You need to be sure."

"I…" She wanted to say yes, but a lingering tendril of doubt made her say, "This is all happening so fast."

"I won't take on this responsibility lightly…" he trailed off, and Rey knew that he was thinking of his nephew. "And neither should you."

He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. Rey sighed, frustrated at his reticence. "If you need more time to think about it, I—I understand. I can survive by myself. It's what I've done my whole life."

She brushed by him in the narrow passageway, turning away before he could see her tears. Thankfully for her pride, he didn't follow her. She grabbed the box of tools and lugged it toward the proper access panel near the main hold, then kicked open the panel in the floor. She dropped down into the maintenance shaft, turning to head toward the water reclamation unit. Loneliness welled in her heart, and she hugged a hydrospanner to her chest as though it could ward off the fear that had plagued her entire life: that she was truly unwanted. And then, angry at herself for giving in, she pried the cover of the water reclamation unit's control panel from its hinges. She left it to hang open while she probed the wires within, looking for the source of the problem.

The work calmed her. After a while, Chewbacca leaned over the gap in the floor to ask if she needed anything before he went to sleep, but she hardly heard him. Eventually, weariness overcame her determination to fix the unit before she went to bed, and she sagged back against the wall of the cramped compartment. She succumbed to the urge to close her eyes. As she drifted toward sleep, a soothing coolness slowed her heartbeat.

In the darkness of thought, a blue orb materialized, as smooth as a drop of water. The water droplet seemed to freeze, whitening with ice, before she realized that it was surrounded by an asteroid belt and limitless stars: it was a planet. A strange thing to daydream about. She mentally reached for its pleasant chill of snow, and the planet grew so large that it blocked out the rest of space. A blemish on the planet's surface came into focus, sharpening into a scattering of ships in orbit. Curious, she focused on the largest of the ships, and as her eyes strayed across its angular hull, a white flash in a small viewport caught her attention.

The icy blue planet was reflected in the viewport. Beyond that was a lean figure of a man sitting cross-legged on the barren floor. Oddly, he was barefoot, and dressed in a thin dark robe that gaped open at the chest as though he hadn't taken the time to tie it properly. His head was bowed over the components of something small and mechanical, perhaps a weapon, spread neatly on the floor before him. The white light flashed again from within the room. Rey's curiosity got the better of her and she focused her attention on what had caused it: a small piece of ice that glittered on the palm of his hand, periodically glowing with red or white light. Except the shard wasn't ice; it wasn't melting, and it looked charred on one end. She reached for it—

The man raised his head toward the viewport, his dark hair falling back from his face so that Rey could clearly see his closed eyes and calm demeanor: he was deep in thought. She recognized his face, though the scar was new, but who he was wasn't important at the moment—she wanted to know what that intriguing, glowing shard was. He tilted his head as though he could hear her silent question, and then, with a quick intake of breath, he opened his eyes. Rey stared into those brown eyes, sure that he could see her, or sense her, but he didn't move; she was vaguely aware that, back on the Millennium Falcon, her body had instinctively cried out as he became aware of her, and flung itself backwards as though dodging blaster fire—but here, curiosity overrode whatever fear of him she should have felt. She tried to speak, but could not.

After they had watched each other for a moment, Kylo Ren smirked. "You're prying," he said, closing his hand around the shard. "Come to me if you want to learn properly."

Rey fell out of the vision as hard as if he'd given her a bodily shove off of her old speeder. She stared wildly around the mechanical compartment for a moment before scrambling out of it, hardly aware that she'd brought the hydrospanner with her. She stumbled into the main hold and fell onto the closest chair, breathing hard. The room was dark but for the pale red light of one of R2's sensors blinking in a slow, steady rhythm to indicate he had gone into low power mode while everyone else slept.

The red light reminded her of the strange crystal he had held. For all that she hadn't left the Millennium Falcon, the racing of her heart told her that what she had seen was real. Somewhere out there, Kylo Ren sat in a Star Destroyer that was orbiting an ice planet. He had caught her spying on him. She flushed, felt a thrill of anxiety or exhilaration—or both—as she recalled his shrewd eyes.

She realized she was clenching her teeth out of agitation and forced herself to relax. She blew out a long breath. She should tell Master Skywalker, she knew she should… and yet she was ashamed, because in a deep part of her soul, she liked the feeling of being wanted, of being welcomed with open arms rather than taken on like a burden. And she wanted to try spying on him again, if only to get another look at that crystal. If she got good enough at it, maybe she could figure out his location. To tell the Resistance, of course. Of course she would. It wasn't like she would ever take him up on his offer to teach her. Never that.

But she knew it was wrong. If she could learn about him, then he might be able to learn about her. Might be able to find her and the Resistance. Might be able to tell that Master Skywalker was with them.

No, she wouldn't be a fool. She wouldn't seek him out again. She would tell Master Skywalker about the vision, and he'd teach her how to keep it from happening again.

The resolution calmed her. But it was still hours before she could sleep.

Ren opened his fist. He'd been clutching the kyber crystal so hard that its sharp, damaged edges impaled his skin. Blood smeared across its glittering surface, and he forced himself to gently set the crystal back among the other components of his lightsaber before he damaged it further. It was a vital component of his lightsaber, and he had no other to replace it with.

His hands were shaking. She'd fought him, resisted him at every turn, called him a monster… but those things were expected. This invasion was the most unsettling thing she'd done by far.

She shouldn't have been able to intrude on his Meditation. It was a cruel joke, in a way: perhaps his dwelling on how to find her had drawn her thoughts to his. The blood-stained kyber crystal glimmered again, this time of its own accord, bathing his small chamber in rosy light.

There was a way to use this to achieve his goals, there had to be. He drew in a long breath, held it, and eased back into his Meditation. He held onto that last image of her: unafraid, bright eyes expectant, reaching out a hand toward him. Rationally, he knew that she'd only wanted a closer look at the crystal, but he let himself pretend for half a heartbeat that it was him, his guidance, that she wanted. Excitement surged in his gut as he sensed that if he followed this path, the Force would—

The door alarm chimed, jerking him out of his trance. He swallowed a curse and allowed himself one second to seethe in anger at the disturbance. Then he raised a hand, using the Force to trigger the door to open. Light flooded the room from the hallway. He didn't bother to stand to face the door, nor to hide his annoyance. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Sir," the Stormtrooper said, sounding as if he meant it. There was a momentary silence as the trooper no doubt looked into the room and realized that he had interfered with something intimate. A spike of fear radiated from the trooper. "The armory prepared this for you as you commanded."

"Is that my helmet?" Ren asked, carefully concealing emotion from his voice.

"Yes, Sir."

"Place it just inside the door." He stood, and tightened the robe's sash around his waist as the trooper obeyed. He placed his hands on his hips, still staring out towards the planet Hoth. He waited another moment, letting the trooper quail under the silence, until he asked, "Was there anything else?"

"Yes, Sir. General Hux ordered me to inform you that he has received intelligence corroborating data found at the abandoned Resistance base. We believe we have identified their new location, or a waypoint to it."

Why hadn't the fool lead with that information? Ren spun to face the trooper, who took a nervous step back. Ren felt for his lightsaber at his waist—but of course, it was scattered in pieces upon the floor. He transformed the motion into a reach, and pulled the helmet to him with the Force.

"Tell Hux I'll come to the bridge momentarily. You're dismissed."

The Stormtrooper triggered the door to close before he left—probably so he could rush away, unseen. Ren savored the weight of the helmet in his hands—and then was momentarily blinded as the crystal flared once again with light. He wanted to go to it, to regain his Meditation, but events would not wait. He pulled on the helmet, feeling himself again, and made ready to leave.

Chapter Text

Chapter Three: Habit

Kylo Ren thumbed off his lightsaber, plunging himself into darkness and silence as the blade disappeared. He frowned in thought, and triggered the lightsaber back to life. The red blade reformed with alacrity, but Ren shook his head at it. Something felt off. There was a slight vibration in the hilt that signaled a potential problem, and the hum of the blade whined too high. Both vibration and change of pitch were almost imperceptible, but they were there.

He slashed twice at the air-first slowly, and then with a quick flick of his wrist-the circular movements designed to reacquaint himself with the blade's balance and reach. He'd had to shear off the charred end of the kyber crystal, an action which had focused the energy into a more unstable blade that was slightly thicker and shorter than he was used to. As usual, the energy lancing from the two exhaust ports of the hilt jutted out like a lethal cross guard, but now they shifted in size unpredictably depending on the load on the blade. After the modifications, it felt like an entirely new weapon; even the hilt rested differently in his hand.

His dislike of the lightsaber's alterations unsettled him, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. It was wrong that a warrior should feel so at odds with his chosen weapon-

Ren clenched his teeth, refusing to stray down that path. At least the lightsaber worked, despite the damage it had taken. It would have to do until he was able to lay claim to the one that had been Darth Vader's. The one she had.

Two hours' practice with this one had at last convinced him that no further modifications were necessary, and he had no more time to waste tweaking it in any case. He disengaged the blade and crossed the expanse of the hangar bay to retrieve his mask and heavy robes. Star Destroyers weren't built with the needs of Force Users' training in mind, but this particular hangar provided sufficient space for the calisthenic drills he regularly employed in addition to practicing perception, forms, and techniques with the blade itself. And he knew without having to look that several First Order officers and a handful of higher-ranking troopers had gathered in the darkened control room to watch him. The rumors about his capabilities would trickle, awe- or terror-struck, down into the ranks of their fellows; they always did. It was another reason he made a point to train here.

Blaster fire made him move instinctively, igniting his lightsaber as he spun to bring the blade around. He had to react so quickly that it was impossible for him to process what had happened with his eyes; he relied instead on guidance from the Force to deflect the trio of bolts harmlessly into the invisible containment shield of the hangar bay door. Still moving instinctively, he thrust out a hand, flinging the spherical training droid across the hangar until it smashed against a bulkhead and disintegrated. He glanced over at the other two training droids; they hung motionless in the air, powered down as he had left them. Just as the third one should have been.

The back of his neck prickled, as though malevolent eyes were watching him. He looked up over his shoulder at the control room viewport, and turned off his lightsaber so it would be easier to see into the room. Hux was there, watching him. Perhaps he had arranged this "accident". Hux's face revealed nothing, of course. Ren clenched his jaw in annoyance; as though Ren would ever make it that easy for Hux to get rid of him.

At least the incident renewed Ren's trust in the blade. He clipped his lightsaber back to his belt, and, turning his back on those watching him, he knelt on the floor before the darkness of space. He forced his hands to relax, open, on his knees; his shoulders sagged as he let out a long breath. He'd already done cooling down exercises for his body, but now, staring out into the expanse of stars visible through the hangar bay door, he tried to calm this mind.

Normally, contemplating how the inhabitants of the galaxy could be induced into order from natural cosmic chaos gave him purpose and a sense of direction.

Normally, protocol and the rule of law set his mind at ease, allowed him to see where he fit into the schema of the otherwise-tumultuous universe.

Today, knowing what he was about to do in order to satisfy his Master's wishes, knowing that he was about to circumvent a command structure where disobedience was unforgivable, the breathing exercise took longer than it should have to work.

But the Force was always with him. His doubts faded.

At last he rose and dressed, donning his mask. By then the control room was empty; he was no longer being watched. No one saw him stride purposefully toward the nondescript freighter he had arranged for the Finalizer to intercept and tow into the bay. He wasn't a prodigy pilot like Darth Vader had been, but he could handle the freighter well enough. As he strapped into the pilot's seat and brought the freighter to life, he concerned himself with using delicate tendrils of the Force to trigger the appropriate command sequences back on the Finalizer so that the freighter could un-dock, and then so that there would be no pursuit as he headed to open space. The complicated Force maneuvers combined with increasing distance required his complete concentration; he ignored all of the Star Destroyer's attempts to contact him.

The disaster of Starkiller was recent enough that Hux's forces not yet regained full strength. He had no ships to spare to chase down Ren on his errant mission, and they both knew it. Ren imagined Hux on the command deck, his face turning red as he tried to hold back a stream of curses, unable to do anything but watch Ren go where he will. Hux might label Ren's actions as treasonous; Ren had left instructions for his Knights to help convince Hux otherwise… and to subvert his interference if absolutely necessary.

Ren had already done so much more than he ever thought himself capable of, because of Snoke's teachings. Ren owed it to his Master to do anything necessary to fulfill his wishes-and he owed it to himself to gain strength and capacity in the Force.

So Kylo Ren didn't smile. He drew inward, focusing on the task ahead, as he made the jump to lightspeed.

Rey knew she was going to like Sumarin, if only because it was so wildly different from Jakku. Like Takodana, the world was flush with greenery, but rather than carrying its water in oceans or lakes or as snow, it carried it as a warm steam on the air that built throughout the day and was released in nightly in rain showers. A persistent fog clung low to the ground, especially thick in the ancient woods pressing close against the Resistance compound, making Rey feel concealed and safe. It was beautiful and mystic-yet almost stifling, at least compared to the open dunes of Jakku.

Her presence on this planet, more than anything else that had happened, seemed to herald the beginning of her new life. As a Jedi Apprentice. She tried to suppress a smile at the strange turns her life had taken in only a matter of weeks, but couldn't.

As the only member of Master Skywalker's retinue, Rey was granted a private room within the compound's main barracks. Here, she could be close at hand in case Master Skywalker needed her, and she had her own quiet space to devote to her training. Rey didn't think she actually rated such consideration in the grand scheme of things, but compared to the sand-blasted and barren AT-AT she had lived in almost her entire life, the squat, non-descript barracks were a palace. Her small room had a private refresher, and though she had lived in the room for a week, she still felt a little guilty at her sudden ability to use as much water as she needed for washing and bathing. Though this planet was filled with water, it was a luxury she never thought she'd have.

Though she had already been awake for hours, Rey paused at her room's small window to watch the sun rise. Below her, weary Resistance fighters ended their duty shifts and were replaced with fresh compatriots, the tan uniforms of the various bipedal species momentarily bronzed by the brilliance of the strengthening sunlight. In the peace of the moment, she slowly rolled her head on her neck, easing muscles that had tensed over hours of trying too hard to be still. Giving in to the sudden urge to move, she trotted down the circular stone steps leading into the warren of caverns that made up the true heart of the compound.

If her stomach was telling her correctly, and it usually did, it was time for breakfast. Another luxury: to be given three meals a day as long as she showed up at the makeshift mess hall at the proper time. Much of the Resistance was makeshift aside from its mess hall-its gear, the infrastructure, even the command room-but Rey was used to being provisional. What was important was functionality. Life didn't need to be pretty to be worth living.

She tried to remind herself of that as she stared at the protein cubes piled on her plate, wondering what matter they had been derived from. At least the food was hot.

"If you squash it down with your fork and sprinkle some seasoning on it, it doesn't taste half bad."

Poe Dameron grinned at her as straddled the chair opposite her and plunked his own plate down onto the long table. He was wearing an orange flight suit, so either he'd just come off duty, or he was about to head to the flight line. Based on the energy of his movements as he dressed his own meal and began to eat with gusto, Rey guessed that it was the later.

"I really can't complain," Rey said, stirring her own cubes down to mush. "Back home, I'd have to work for three days for this much food."

"Right, scavenging." Poe arched an eyebrow. "That does put a different spin on it."

Rey just shrugged and dug in. She kept her eyes downcast on her plate, feeling her chest tighten at being in such close proximity to Poe. He made her nervous because he was so nice to her; he was nice to everyone. But what intimidated her the most-and intrigued her more than it should have-was not that he was the Resistance's ace pilot, but rather how extremely capable he was. She was used to keeping her head down and trying to stay out of notice, and it was off-putting that someone like Poe made strides to seek her out, to include her. But he seemed sensitive to this, somehow, and was content to let her eat in silence.

He was also, the sneaking thought in the back of her mind reminded her, the only other person she knew who had been under the mental Scrutiny of Kylo Ren. It was something that she and Poe had never discussed-though she and Master Skywalker had spoken of the incident at such length that she would be happy never to have to talk about it again.

Not that she and Poe had much opportunity for conversation. He finished his meal within a few minutes, then darted away after shooting her another grin and the brief explanation: "Have to run, a 12-hour patrol duty awaits. So exciting."

She returned the smile, found her gaze lingering down the hallway after him… and then, cursing herself for letting him turn her head, sternly made a point to eat every scrap of the barely palatable protein on her plate. Growing up the way she had, she had rarely felt that innocent, compulsive attraction to anyone, especially not to anyone who stayed at Niima Outpost for more than five minutes. She had never wanted to become distracted. And now, any distractions might be deadly.

She steeled herself to her decision as she wound through the poorly-marked tunnel system to the medical bay. The scent of disinfectant wafted out to meet her at its threshold. She dreaded the room and what she would find there, but keyed the door open despite the anxiety settling in the pit of her stomach. She'd made a promise, and intended to keep it.

Finn occupied one of the bunks against the far wall, where he had lain in an induced coma since returning from the destroyed Starkiller base several weeks prior. Instead of a shirt, he wore bandages that covered the extensive lightsaber wounds on his back and right shoulder. Rey had never seen the wounds, but her imagination filled in what the bandages were covering with horrible detail. Various tubes and lines ran into his body to help sustain his life. Every quarter-hour, a droid turned him so that his weight didn't rest on his stomach, back, or side for too long; every several hours, they changed his bandages and applied a bacta treatment. This morning she'd arrived at the tail end of one of those less than pleasant ministrations. She turned away until the droid was finished, and then knelt on the floor by his bed.

She understood machines: how they worked and why. How to take them apart, evaluate the pieces, and put them back together. She had less understanding about the damage Kylo Ren had inflicted onto her friend—but she knew Finn was a survivor, that he had the will to live. If it was up to Finn's mind alone, he'd be able to pull through. She had to believe that he would.

She laid a hand on his undamaged shoulder. "Week one of Jedi training, and I've learned that I'm no good at sitting still," she said with a light laugh, before abruptly sobering. Although she knew it was ridiculous, it almost felt wrong to be joyful when he lay wounded under her hands. At least, unconscious, he wouldn't feel pain.

"Master Skywalker took back the lightsaber, and confiscated my staff—he said they aren't suitable for an Apprentice." She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. "He says my mind will be all I need, for a time. So I spend hours and hours Meditating, trying to clear my mind of emotion. I think it makes me even more tense." She shrugged her shoulders, recalling the strain of stillness. "A small part of the time he drills me in balance, body strength—physical discipline to encourage mental discipline. It's all about mental discipline. I don't want—" Rey sucked in a breath. She'd been going to name Kylo Ren, but a glance at Finn's wounds made her hold her tongue. "This morning we were practicing to improve my concentration when Master Skywalker got called away to a council with General Organa."

Finn's chest rose and fell, the ventilator breathing for him. He neither moved nor otherwise acknowledged her presence. In his present state, he couldn't care if she stayed to talk to him, or left to resume her training. Which she ought to do. She pressed a kiss onto Finn's forehead and slowly stood.

Trust the Force. Master Skywalker had asked her to recall the mantra when she was seeking hope. She repeated it to herself as she made her way slowly toward the surface level of the compound. Trust the Force. She was used to only being able to rely on herself; growing up, trusting others usually led to disappointment. And old habits died hard. But she could feel the Force beckoning to her, if she could only give herself fully to it…

Master Skywalker had left her with the vague instructions that she should exercise and study while he was in council, and she knew which she preferred to do first. The sun lightened her spirits somewhat as she began a slow lope around the compound. Those that saw her called encouragement to her, or despaired for her sanity, but the heavy heat and humidity didn't drain her energy the way it seemed to drain most of the other Resistance fighters; she had spent far too much time under the sun of Jakku to avoid activity here. She ran until the sun arched high overhead, and then stumbled to rest under against the trunk of a thick tree near the edge of the landing pad. For a long while, Rey watched the mechanics scurry around the snubfighters and bombers that were settled down in clusters in a roofless hangar bay, until she realized what she was doing: sitting alone, watching the activity of spacecraft, and waiting. Another habit she'd have to break.

Striving for productivity, Rey pulled out the data pad Master Skywalker had given her to study, and managed to read through three lessons before she lost her ability to concentrate. She was tired of sitting still, and mentally weary from the Meditations of the morning. She stood and stretched, then leaned forward into a wobbly handstand to practice her balance. She fell often, bruising herself on the roots of the tree, but used falling as an excuse to practice controlling her momentum so that she could roll back up into another handstand. She alternated balancing with reading, switching tasks when one grew weary; they were far more tiring than the running had been.

She'd seen Master Skywalker effortlessly balance on one hand while using the Force to create a delicate, impossible, tower of rocks. As dusk gathered, she tried to emulate him, but instead her exhausted body collapsed beneath her, sending her sprawling one last time at the base of the tree.

Laughing despite the failure, Rey lay on her back for a moment until the dizziness subsided. Fog settled over her, so cool and comforting that she could have fallen asleep right there.

But then a patch of the gathering shadows under the trees shifted. Rey lifted her head, certain that it could only have been the fog thickening at the onset of the inevitable evening rain shower. From her new perspective, she could see the floodlights from the compound reflect dully off of the front aspect of the dark helmet.

Rey struggled with herself, trying to reconcile what she was seeing. She blinked up at the dark figure looming over her, feeling momentarily insane as she tried to decide it if was a figment of her imagination, a vision, or some shred from a nightmare. But she could feel him now, connect to him with the Force. Her blood rushed in her ears, so she wasn't sure if she mouthed his name or actually said it: Kylo Ren.

Chapter Text

Chapter Four: Kilter

Rey's whole being trembled with nervous energy and vague nausea as she looked up at the lifeless mask covering Kylo Ren's face. Her instinct was to run, but as she tried to jump to her feet her exhausted legs failed her, sending her crashing down to her knees. She reached over her shoulder for her staff-but it wasn't there. Her chest rose and fell with quick shallow breaths that she could not quite control as she said, still halfway-disbelieving, "You're—actually—here."

Clear your mind of emotion. Fear will only cloud your judgement.

She focused on her lessons as she tried to get a grip on herself. She wasn't afraid of him—at least, not as much as she probably should be. After all, she had come away the victor from their last physical encounter. She tried to suppress the doubting voice in the back of her mind listing all of the reasons why that victory had surely been a fluke. Her eyes strayed toward the lightsaber hanging at his belt, confirmation that this time, he was armed and she was not.

He still hadn't moved. He stood before her, scrutinizing her as intently as she was studying him. The gray fog swirled around him, light in comparison to the black padded armor and robes he wore. Beyond him—for somehow, the galaxy had not been held captive by this impossible meeting-the expected rainstorm broke in a long roll of thunder. A scattering of early rain drops, fractured by the leafy canopy and lent strength by the gusting wind, pelted down heavily around them. The rain rose in crescendo, disturbing the endless stretch of fog engulfing them and shattering the silence stretching between them as it gained strength into a full deluge.

Rey's mind raced so quickly that her thoughts were dashed apart before they were fully formed, like the ocean waves crashing onto the rocky shore of the island where she had found Master Skywalker. She could think of only one intelligent thing to do: she reached up toward the comlink clipped at her collar, intending to summon help.

"Wait."

How could she have forgotten the awful timber his voice took on as it was filtered and enhanced through the mask? Despite that, Rey hesitated, intrigued by his imploring tone. It was probably a trick, and even more of a reason that she should call for the guard patrol… but something stirred within her mind. It took a moment for her to identify it: not a trick, but rather her perception of the Force, urging her toward patience. She tried to trust it, reluctantly letting her hand drop back into her lap without keying the comm.

"What am I supposed to wait for?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant. "Your reinforcements to arrive?"

He shifted his shoulders, the quick motion almost like a self-conscious twitch. "I came here alone."

Rey glanced behind him, trying to discern through the downpour some tell-tale sign of advancing First Order ground forces or air support. The woods were silent and still. So still, but for the rain. Tension grew in her chest at the inexplicable quiet as she waited for the attack to come… but it never did.

As she searched, Ren tilted his head to the side as though contemplating her anew. "You... you detest me."

Rey's composure cracked at the audacity of his statement, but he wasn't wrong. "You violated my mind. You murdered Han Solo!" She jabbed a finger back toward the compound. "My friend is half dead because of you."

"Your friend, the traitor?" He squatted down before her, resting his hands almost casually on his knees. "He was foolish to attack me. Especially with a lightsaber."

"He was trying to defend me."

"You need no one to do your fighting for you," he said, sounding disgusted. But apparently Finn rated no further attention, and Ren straightened. "Stand up."

If he wanted her to stand to face him, she would stubbornly stay sitting. The rain splattered mud onto her clothing and slicked the cloth to her skin, but she didn't care. "No."

"You'd rather demean yourself?" And then, as though her refusal actually offended him, he reached down, took her by her shoulders, and lifted her to her feet. His gloved hands firmly held her upper arms as though he expected her to fight his grip, but she forced herself to stay calm. If his tactic was to intimidate her with his size and strength, she didn't want to let him know that it was working. Her gaze slid along the disconcerting mask, following the silver curves over the brow, unsure where to settle.

"I can't demean myself as long as I remain true to who I am," she said, allowing her words to bite even as her legs nearly went out from under her again, and his hold on her was the only thing keeping her to her feet. "A foreign concept to you. So are you here to kill me, like you killed the other apprentices?"

He stared at her for a horrible moment—and then released her to turn away, the action as quick as it was disconcerting. At least she stayed standing on her own. When he turned back to face her, she half-expected that he'd have his lightsaber in hand. For the second time in as many heart-pounding moments, he surprised her with his restraint.

"That's not what I'm here for. Rey."

The sound of her own name slipped like a careless thought from that hated mask, as though he had never uttered it aloud before and was testing the way it sounded. It sounded… far too human.

Rey stumbled back as the Force shifted within her again, but she couldn't grasp what it was trying to tell her. She veered sharply into the tree trunk, bolstering her mental defenses in order to resist his internal prying. But instead of attacking with the Force, he advanced after her with two long strides, pressing the advantage.

"I need to find Skywalker." There was no menace in his voice, but rather an urgency that was somehow worse. She felt dwarfed compared to his towering size and uncomfortable proximity, though he didn't touch her. "You know where he is."

Rey tensed. "You'll never get into my mind again. And I refuse to talk to you with that horrible mask on."

Hardly aware of what she was doing, she reached under his cowl and managed to catch a finger against the rain slicked surface of his helmet before he jerked his head back, out of her reach. One moment she could move and the next—nothing. And he'd only lifted a hand.

Not for nothing had she survived alone on Jakku. She'd fought when needed, and won, and every instinct screamed at her to fight now. But she simply could not move. She could do nothing but glare at him, and try not to panic. She furrowed her brow as she concentrated, pushing back against the invisible vice gripping her body. Nothing.

"I didn't come here to fight you," he insisted. It was—maybe—his version of an apology for holding her with the Force, though he didn't release her. Compared to him, her rough control of the Force was as rudimentary as a single grain of sand set against a dune, but she had to try something to flip his own method against him. Gritting her teeth, she visualized the release mechanism of the mask, imagined the appropriate trigger being depressed…

There was a hiss as a seal disengaged, and the mask shifted slightly upwards as its servomotors loosened for removal.

She smiled in triumph.

"Clever." His voice was a strange mixture of approval and finality, hard emotions for Rey to reconcile. He reached with both hands to settle the mask back down, renewing the seal. "But you try my patience. Don't do that again." His tone was still conversational, but she knew it was the only warning she was going to get. "Where is the lightsaber?"

Obstinacy, stalling, was her strategy. They weren't inconspicuous; despite the heavy rainfall, he would be spotted eventually. She tried to distract him. "I'm supposed to believe that you didn't come here to fight me?"

"It's the truth."

"Isn't this a fight?" She pressed again at the mental hold he had on her, found it impenetrable. On the surface she remained calm, but she could feel panic kicking within. The adage about fear clouding judgement flew from her mind. "Let me loose, Ren."

"If you'll agree to speak to me."

"If you'll just take off that damned mask-!" She caught herself, but it was too late; it wasn't a bargain she'd meant to make, but she couldn't call the words back.

He clenched his fists, and for a moment Rey feared she had pressed him too far. She found herself moving gently but inexorably backwards until the cold trunk of the tree impeded any further movement. Once she was pinned there, he reached up to trigger the release of his mask.

Rey gaped, and hastily closed her eyes as though that would deny the gravity of what he'd done. She hadn't expected him to do it--not really--and did not want to see the true face of the man who prowled in the back of her consciousness. With the mask on, Kylo Ren was just an abstraction; without it, he was--

There was a thud at her feet. Startled, she opened her eyes to see that, without her realizing it, he'd approached her and dropped the helmet at the base of the tree. She looked slowly up from the discarded helmet, forcing herself to take in detail: how he leaned against the tree, bracing himself with his right hand planted firmly by her shoulder, his body language expectant; how he was standing so close to her, the tattered and frayed edge of his cape blew around him to brush against her arms; how the new scar lancing across his face from left temple to right jaw made his features seem even harder. And how her stomach clenched so tightly when she finally met the depths of his eyes.

In his eyes she saw impressions of all that had previously passed between them… and suggestions of the varied possibilities of what might still be to come. Her breath caught, ragged, as the Force arced between them, bridging them together with twisting light and fire that was there and gone in an instant. And then came an irresistible tugging, similar to what had happened to her on Takodana. But before she could fall into whatever vision was pulling at her, the tension surrounding her body disappeared, anchoring her firmly into the present.

She could move. She wanted to sag back against the tree, to hug herself, to stretch tensed muscles--but forced herself to stand tall. Despite their strange truce, she couldn't let him see how unsettled she was by whatever had just passed between them. But he still appeared perfectly calm, and Rey realized with a gut-wrenching pang that, whatever that arc was—he hadn't felt it. Or at least, he was giving no outward sign of it.

Instead, he used the Force to summon the helmet to his free hand, idly inspecting how the raindrops beaded on its slick surface. Then he thrust it into her hands, as though the mere sight of it angered him. "There. Proof. The mask has been removed."

She almost dropped it. Despite her revulsion of the helmet, she briefly turned it over in her hands, wiping away the excess moisture. She could see a distorted version of herself reflected there, a reflection that looked small, and miserably rain-sodden, and not intimidating in the slightest. When she realized her hands were shaking, she let the helmet slip from her fingers to fall at their feet.

He watched her for a moment before saying, "I generally don't negotiate." The words were soft, but forbidding, reminding her that he had upheld his end of the bargain and expected her to do the same. When he'd worn the mask, she'd felt somewhat shielded from the full force of his intensity; but faced with it now, she babbled:

"I can tell. Negotiation might suit you, if you practiced it more."

"Routine and order are much more efficient than negotiation," he said, annoyed. And then he let out a long breath, as though to refocus himself. "Where is the lightsaber?"

"I don't have it."

"That's not what I asked. If you had it, no doubt you would have used it on me already. Does he have it?"

"Who?"

"Don't play games with me. Neither of us will be happy if we have to renegotiate. Where is Luke Skywalker?"

He leaned closer to her. She tilted back her head to keep her eyes up, defiant. "I know you want to kill him. Do you honestly think that I'm going to answer that question?"

"So you do know where he is."

The victory in his voice made Rey pause. Had she said too much? She shivered as adrenaline shuddered through her. She hardly noticed the chill from the rain. Not knowing what to do or say to combat his single-minded fervor, she tried to counter his questioning. "Why do you have to do it, Ren? How does murdering someone serve the Force? Why can't you just--"

He started to interrupt her. "The Force—"

The crackling from the comlink clipped to the neckline of Rey's jumpsuit startled them both. Ren shifted, creating enough space between them so he could reach across to his right hip and slip the lightsaber from his belt. Rey looked warily down at the lightsaber as the voice of Poe Dameron rang out through the comlink:

"I see him. Right where Rogue One said he'd be. Intercepting."

The whine of engines roared overhead, violently shaking the trees so that their branches bowed low to the ground. Leaves and twigs mixed into the rain flooding down around them as the X-wing's searchlights centered on them. Rey winced away from the blinding light as the X-wing settled to a hover just above them. Ren stared at the X-wing dead on, the wash from its engines pushing back his cowl to blow through his dark hair before whipping his cape out behind him. With his free hand, he bent to snatch up his helmet and slip it on.

Her comlink crackled again. "He has Rey." The belly cannon of the X-wing lowered, training on them.

"Rogue One," Ren repeated, a cold confirmation in his voice.

The phrase meant nothing to Rey, but it certainly meant something to Ren: his lightsaber sprang to life in a defensive position low before his chest. He half-turned to the right so that his blade crossed between them and the X-wing, and then grabbed a fistful of the front of her jumpsuit. The touch was impersonal and firm, and kept her pinned to the tree as though it was very important that he knew exactly where she was. Rain sizzled off of the plasma blade; it cast a feverish red glow into the air.

"Luke Skywalker is here."

It wasn't quite a question, and though his voice was emotionless, Rey could feel his shock resonating through the Force.

"You didn't sense him?" she asked, trying to keep her voice neutral. It would not be wise to do anything to tip him over the edge of rationality. His hand tightened on the hilt of his lightsaber.

"Try anything. I dare you, you bastard." Poe probably wasn't aware that Rey's comlink was keyed open, that Kylo Ren could hear every word. The hatred in his voice was undeniable. Rey silently screamed at Poe to shut up, not to goad Ren on. Not like it mattered; Rey felt Ren tense, and wondered if he was on the verge of doing something deadly. Could he pull an unmoving X-wing out of the air with the Force?

"You can't block a laser cannon, even with a lightsaber," Rey said, trying to talk him down. She wasn't sure if it was true--perhaps he could--but she certainly didn't want him to try it with her standing next to him. She hoped Poe wouldn't shoot at her, at least not on purpose, but maybe taking out Kylo Ren would be worth the collateral damage.

Behind them, Rey could hear the cautious approach of Resistance fighters and the whine of two more X-wing snubfighters circling overhead. She wanted to point out to Ren that he was outnumbered, but didn't want him to take it as a challenge.

But he didn't seem to be paying attention to the approaching Resistance. He drew in a quick breath. "I can feel him. He is here." He turned his head away from the X-wing, focusing entirely on her. The pressure on her chest lessened as, for whatever reason, he seemed to decide that he no longer needed to hold her there. She wished she knew what he was thinking, wished he had left off the mask. After a moment, she could begin sensing another emotion mingling with his shock: a grudging respect.

And then, amazingly, the blade of his lightsaber disappeared. She was so surprised at his abrupt surrender that it took her a moment to realize that he'd let her go, and she was still just standing there.

Several of the Resistance forces darted forward. One grabbed Rey's arm, pulling her roughly back and away from Ren, as another knocked the lightsaber from Ren's hand. Rey stared, numb with disbelief and confusion, as he let them take him into custody. His cooperation somehow made him seem even more arrogant as they bound his hands behind his helmet. She felt that she should do something, should try to prevent him from lashing out with the Force… but realized she had no idea how to try to stifle or contain the external manifestations of his power.

Perhaps he had enough blasters trained on him that he wouldn't try something stupid.

They marched him away, a tall dark figure among a mass of beige and orange uniforms. Poe tossed her a salute from his cockpit as he turned his snubfighter, keeping the cannon trained on the prisoner. All but two of the other fighters walked back toward the compound. Though she knew that the two who'd stayed behind probably needed to debrief her, Rey waved them away from her. She sagged forward onto her knees, utterly exhausted.

Why had he come, alone, and how had he found them? She had no energy left to try to process what had just happened, let alone hypothesize why and how.

Trust the Force.

She blew out a shaking breath, thinning the fog immediately beneath her. Light glinted from a piece of metal that had been hidden by the fog and a puddle of mud. She stared for a moment before registering what she was seeing. And then she reached out a trembling hand toward Kylo Ren's lightsaber.

Kylo Ren felt control slipping away from him as though this was a very bizarre, very surreal, very unfortunate dream.

He tracked every turn they took in the twisting underground corridors leading to wherever they thought they could securely hold him, trying to identify, through the flickering overhead lighting, any distinguishing mark on the walls that might help him navigate the warren later. But his mind was not truly in it.

They left him alone in a room as barren as the corridors. The room was situated deep beneath the compound, and perhaps had been designed as some sort of security lockup: an energy shield shimmered outside the double-layered blast doors that were the only way in or out, if one could not destroy the room's thick durasteel walls. A low cot sat in the far corner, a rudimentary refresher unit opposite it; there was scarcely room to hold anything else. The room's design had excluded view ports, manipulable controls… seemingly everything but the inevitable hidden surveillance equipment.

He knew they were watching him. He expected at any moment that an armed troupe would arrive to search him for tracking devices and other dangers; he would submit to it. They would try to interrogate him; he would let them try. Whatever their methods, he would behave as anyone else who had surrendered would behave—for now.

It was irritating, but not nearly as irritating as not understanding… exactly… why he had let things unfold in such an unorthodox way. Why he had let control be wrested from his hands. Why the firm ground under his feet had seemed to shift, tilting him off balance.

Rey.

She clouded the mind. He could still feel her out there, and now that he was attuned to her she seemed to blaze like a homing beacon with the Force. She would have to learn to hide her presence—she was being hunted, just like he was hunting Skywalker.

He paced, not entirely realizing it.

Skywalker should know that, should train her to protect herself--but of course, how could Skywalker be aware of the danger that anyone but himself was in? He'd let everything fall to pieces, abandoned everything, and fled--for years. The universe had not been on pause during his absence, far from it. And now that he suddenly decided to return, he was going to ruin Rey's training the way he had ruined Ren's? It could not be permitted.

Ren could feel the old bitterness surge within him again. But bitterness would not serve him here. His Master's warnings against sentimentality and compassion and desire rose to mind—and instantly annoyed him. His Master had instructed him to banish those feelings with one breath, and in the next, encouraged him to embrace emotion. He hated the inconsistency of it.

Instinctively, he reached for his lightsaber, needing to vent his frustrations—but of course, it had been confiscated.

He stopped moving, breathing hard, realizing that he'd worked himself into a frenzy. He needed calm, focus.

He moved to the center of the room, and dropped to a knee facing the door. He closed his eyes to banish distractions as he reached outward with his senses. He perceived the surrounding complex as a vague danger, penetrated by more intimate ones. And now, as though there had been an unveiling, he could sense a focal point in the Force: Skywalker had been hiding himself, but no longer. He was the flood that nearly drowned out the kindling fire that was Rey. And far weaker was--

The old presence: no longer familiar, but not forgotten. Savage pain rose within him so unexpectedly that he struggled to tamp it down. He sank deeper into his Meditation out of sheer necessity, awaiting the inevitable meeting with Leia Organa.

Chapter Text

Chapter Five: Recall

Rey's debriefing passed in a series of blinks, each event occurring with intense concentration yet disjointed from the next as though her brain was phasing out all peripheral, non-vital experiences. In what seemed like three blinks, Ren's lightsaber was in her hand—it was hidden in her jumpsuit—and then she was back inside the compound, in a private room off of the commander center. Two security forces personnel questioned her about everything that both she and Kylo Ren had said and done with such scrutiny that, though they were polite about it, Rey's doubts began to swell until she had half-convinced herself that they were going to lock her away. After an eternity, they pressed a mug of something steaming hot into her hands before thanking her for her compliance and telling her to go get some rest.

When she blinked again, she was sitting at the end of Finn's bunk in the silent darkness of the medical bay, knees drawn up to her chest. She'd been lost in her thoughts for so long that the drink was ice cold.

"Finn," she whispered, hoping that this time he might be recalled back to himself. But there was nothing. The lights on Finn's medical monitors flickered, the indicators sedate and unchanging. It should have made it easier for her to talk to him, made it easier to unload her guilt and confusion without fear of judgement. But she couldn't. Finn never would have tried to bargain with Kylo Ren. Finn would have triggered the comlink to call the guard, avoiding the whole fiasco. And Finn definitely wouldn't understand why Rey had let Ren talk to her.

She told herself that she'd simply trusted her gut instinct, trusted the Force. She wasn't sure it had accomplished anything, except maybe to increase her confusion over Ren's motives. Kylo Ren hadn't been there to fight her, though he clearly still wanted to find Master Skywalker. That held with the rumor that Ren was on a mission to wipe out any Jedi competition to the First Order... so then why hadn't he taken the opportunity to go after her? And then why had he turned himself over to the Resistance?

Maybe he didn't think she threatened the First Order—but she couldn't convince herself of that, not after she had helped weaken the Starkiller for destruction. Maybe his surrender was just a long con that he hoped would play out in his favor. Maybe he hadn't hurt her because he wanted her to ally with him—

"No." She had to say the word aloud to get her brain to listen to it. She wouldn't get caught in this mental rut. Not again.

"I wish you would wake up, Finn. I could use—I don't know, someone to tell me that I'm not crazy." She huffed a bitter laugh. "Or maybe someone to tell me that I am." She leaned in close to his ear to whisper, "I have Kylo Ren's lightsaber, and I didn't turn it over to the Resistance. And I don't know why."

The medical bay doors hissed open, and for a wild second Rey thought her admission had called the security forces down upon her. But instead it was just Poe Dameron, looking more harried than he had that morning, and somewhat dazed even as he confidently navigated the maze of medical equipment stowed between the door and Finn's bunk. He was clearly startled when he noticed her there.

"Rey!" he said, before wincing at the overly-loud greeting. He hesitated a moment before crouching down next to Finn's bunk. "Will it disturb you if I sit with him for a while? I can't sleep, and figured I might as well give him some company."

"You won't disturb me," she said, scrambling off the bunk and to her feet. "I should probably go anyway. To try to get some sleep myself."

"I don't want to chase you off—"

"It's not a bother. Really. I'm sure Finn is tired of me sitting on his feet." She straightened her jumpsuit, then abruptly froze, fearing that Poe might somehow be able to make out the outline of the illicit lightsaber in her pocket. She forced her hands to her sides, and tried to ignore the curious way he was narrowing his eyes at her.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm…" she drew in a deep breath. "Yes. I'm fine."

"If you say so." He smiled at her, unconvinced. "Between you and me… I wouldn't blame you if you were upset. It was a strange day." He sighed and sank down onto the end of the bunk where Rey had been, and the way he was crossing his arms and staring expectantly at her made it clear that he guessed why she might be upset. Or more specifically, who had upset her. He shrugged and admitted, "I can't sleep knowing that monster is here."

Rey bit her lip, but didn't say anything. She was on the point of breaking under the lure of his empathetic ear, of letting the words bubble up and out into the void so that she no longer felt sick at the weight of them. Then she remembered the surge of power that had passed between herself and Ren, the connection. What would Poe do if he thought that Rey was somehow linked to a man that he so clearly wanted dead?

"You did a good job today," Poe said. "Keeping him at bay, unarmed, until our forces could get there. It was really brave."

"It wasn't brave. It was just—"

"I know what I saw. Don't sell yourself short, Rey."

He sounded so earnest that she had to smile. "I'll try not to. Thanks, Poe."

As she left—fled, in actuality—she could hear BB-8 whistle, a low trilling.

"It's alright, buddy," Poe answered. "She'll be alright. Just give her time."

Strangely, the little droid's concern made her eyes well with tears. Her attitude softened, and she could feel her body relax. For the first time in her life, others cared about her wellbeing. It was hard to get used to, but undeniably comforting.

A voice, quickly stifled, echoed from down a dark corridor at the intersection ahead. Instead of hooking a right toward her room, curiosity made Rey turn left down the side passage. She followed the laughing voice to a trio of people crowding around a data terminal situated in the periphery of the command chamber. The large display on the wall appeared to be showing a live feed from the camera in the room where Kylo Ren was being held. Intrigued, she drew closer in time to see General Organa's personal protocol droid, C-3PO, enter the room.

Still wearing his full helmet and armor, Ren was kneeling in obvious meditation. The serene posture, with one fist planted into the ground and the other arm resting across his upright thigh, was nonetheless intimidating. His short cape fell forward over one arm to brush lightly across the floor. He raised his bowed head as the droid approached him, the room's dim lights glinting off of C-3PO's golden exterior.

"Thank the Maker! It is so good to see you again, Master Ben!"

Ren stood slowly to his full height to loom over the droid. "That is not my name, Threepio," he warned, voice tight.

"Oh my Goodness, I forgot!" The droid continued blithely on, and Rey suppressed a grim smile as she wondered if the protocol droid really had forgotten Ren's adopted name, or just didn't care to use it. Either way, the droid was lucky to still be on one piece. Threepio raised his arms, brandishing the drab green clothes draped across his gold and red appendages. "I have been tasked with collecting your-ah!-garments for inspection. These should be a suitable replacement for the interim."

Rey missed Ren's response. The intelligence specialist assigned to surveil Ren leaned companionably toward the security officer sitting next to him, who was sharing the assignment. "Hard to believe that is the General's son."

"Yeah." The security officer shrugged in her chair. "We were told that only droids can interact with him for now."

"Why?"

"Less manipulable. Don't want anyone spilling secrets or letting him loose."

"Good thinking."

The woman standing behind them, a flight tech who probably wasn't supposed to be there—like Rey probably wasn't supposed to be there—tilted her head as she watched Ren interact with the droid. "I wonder what he looks like under that mask." Rey recognized her voice; she was the one who had laughed.

"You're about to find out," the intel specialist said dryly, nodding back to the display. They watched as Ren unclipped his cape and folded it neatly on the small table that had been brought in for use during his interrogations. Rey held her breath for the eternal moment it took him to pull off the helmet and set it on the cape, surprised and relieved that he hadn't put up a fight this time. His dark hair, still damp from the rainfall, curled loosely around his ears and forehead. He looked composed at a quick glance, but the brisk way he pulled off his gloves betrayed his agitation.

The tech gasped. "He's—"

"Look at that scar." The wide-eyed intel officer's curse cut over his companion's obvious admiration of Ren's features, and Rey cringed.

Kylo Ren might be a captive, but it seemed grossly voyeuristic that the tech clearly planned on staying to spy on him as he changed into the clothes Threepio had brought.

Rey cleared her throat.

The security officer only glanced up for a moment before turning back to her task, but both the specialist and the tech jumped at the indignant sound. They looked back toward her, and straightened nervously as they recognized her. She didn't know their names, and they probably didn't know hers, but they knew she was associated with Master Skywalker in some capacity—and probably knew that she had been involved in Ren's capture.

Rey licked dry lips as she settled on what to say. "If he ever found out that you're watching him like that, I don't think he'd hesitate long before trying to burn it out of your memory."

The specialist smirked. "I doubt that. And anyway, he knows we're watching him, he keeps trying to figure out where the cameras are. Look."

Rey looked again at the display, caught Ren glaring around the room and up toward the ceiling before shucking off his armored tunic. She glimpsed a muscled torso, marked with scars, before forcing herself to lower her eyes.

"That makes it worse, somehow," she said, more to herself than the others. And then, louder, "Don't say I didn't warn you."

"How would you even know how he thinks, anyway?" the tech asked, dismissive of the warning, yet clearly intrigued.

Rey had to think about that one for a second, had to fight to come up with the succinct explanation. Still, she wasn't sure if the tech would understand as she said: "Because I've fought him."

And she'd stolen probably the most intimate possession of a Force User: his lightsaber. Her face flushed under their stares, as though they somehow knew. She ducked her head, regretting that she had opened her mouth—that she'd even stopped at all—and retreated.

When she reached her room, she couldn't settle to sleep. She shut off all her room lights but for a small lamp, darkened her window for privacy, and pulled out the lightsaber.

She held it in a ready position, slanted down and to the right as Ren had done before fighting her on Starkiller. Merely holding it made her heart race. She desperately wanted to trigger it on… and she was desperately afraid to, as though the Dark side of the Force would somehow leech into her if she did.

The Dark side.

Rey dropped the lightsaber onto her small work table before flinging herself to her bed. She buried her face into her pillow, but could only stand it for a moment before taking another peek at the weapon. She was being ridiculous. Merely inspecting Kylo Ren's lightsaber would not doom her. She rolled restlessly off of the bed and took a seat in the uncomfortable chair at the work table.

She turned the lightsaber over in her hands, hefting its sturdy weight. The hilt was longer than Master Skywalker's, and looked crude in comparison, with exposed wiring and power rod terminals that made the weapon more vulnerable to damage.

She gripped it in her left hand and cut horizontally towards the left, into the defensive position Ren had taken when guarding against the X-wing.

When he had guarded them both against the X-wing. The realization crept uncomfortably over her, made her shiver. He could have thrust her before him as a body shield, a living deterrent to keep Poe from firing. He hadn't—instead he'd positioned himself with her against Poe, had included her behind the lightsaber.

This new perspective of his actions wasn't as shocking to her as it probably should have been-the day had been so trying that perhaps she was still in a refractory period, temporarily unable to become overwhelmed. She wished for the hundredth time that she knew what Ren was thinking, what he wanted, why he had come to Sumarin.

Rey peered at the weapon to distract herself, and her skin tightened again with uncomfortable chills. She couldn't suppress the feeling that something else was strange about the lightsaber—not just that it was his. Something else familiar about it.

She had her small tool kit out and what little cover plating there was off of the weapon before she even paused to consider what she was doing.

"This is an absolute mess," she muttered in horrified fascination as she examined the unrefined construction. There was unnecessary redundancy in the design, with components wired together inefficiently as though whoever had built this weapon really didn't know what they were doing. Char marred the length of the hilt, as though some of the components had taken heat damage. She wrinkled her nose at the burned smell wafting from the weapon. "Definitely fried."

But that made no sense. She prodded deeper with her tools, until she found enough evidence to confirm: this weapon had failed.

Which meant Kylo Ren hadn't surrendered of his own accord. His hand had been forced by his lightsaber's malfunction. Which meant—

She jumped up, and banged her head on the lamp, cracking the power source. Her room plunged into darkness. Rey cursed—and then noticed the faint light.

A glimmer of white shone through the deconstructed mess of the lightsaber. Rey knew that light. She leaned down toward the weapon until her nose almost touched it, tools hastily moving aside the rubbish until she uncovered the crystal. The one from her living vision, the one Kylo Ren had been holding in his hand. So this is what he had been building: the lightsaber.

The crystal burned with the Force. It called to her.

Rey triumphantly plucked it from its metallic trappings. Her hand closed around it, and everything went sideways as a rush of color and sound battered at her senses.

Like in her previous vision, Rey no longer had a body.

Instead she was the shrouding darkness, fragrant with desire, protecting the two lovers moving together in frenzied intimacy. She was their soft panting breath as they lay in each other's arms, relishing the stolen moment that may never come again.

She was the galaxy itself, the wheeling expanse of stars, watching in silent agony as the two figures battle with lightsabers, one blue and one green. The fighters move as beautifully as choreographed dancers as they batter desperately at one another with the fiery blades, looking for an opening-any opening-to finally end the struggle.

The humming blades are drowned out by the awful laughter of a man as bent and broken as a gray statue; he watches the fight with unabashed interest-except now the battle shifts to two people wielding red and green lightsabers, their clashing movements rough compared to the others; vibrant blue lightning lances from the ancient man's fingers to torture this fighting pair. "Good," he cackles. "Good. Give in to your anger. Become one with the Dark side of the Force."

The image splits and overlaps, and the fighters with blue and green blades dance nimbly, overlaying the labored attacks of the others. Two sets of monstrous voices speak, insistent and evil, merging and blurring together so that Rey almost can't understand the words: "Strike down your opponent, and your training will be complete."

And after a momentous pause, one defiant answer: "No."

Kylo Ren was aware of exactly when his temper snapped.

Since that moment hours ago, when that insipid droid marched into Ren's cell and uttered the name signifying the family and the life that Ren had chosen to leave behind, he'd been simmering in silent fury. He was managing to hold onto his composure by a thread-a thread that Major Brance was wearing thin.

Ren was relatively certain that Threepio had done it on purpose. No doubt it was his diplomatic version of doling out punishment.

Underlying Ren's annoyance with his captivity was a vague sense of being on edge, the emotion so strong that he could almost taste it on the back of his tongue. Worse, it wasn't his, but rather an invasion he couldn't quite stave off. He wasn't sure who the emotion belonged to, and the last thing he needed was someone hijacking his attempts at regaining his self-confidence. Ren focused inward, considering the foreign anxiety before carefully beginning to wall it away from his consciousness.

"Enough."

Ren said the words more to help bury the invading disquiet in his mind, but Brance twisted his mouth into an ironic smile. "I am conducting this interview, and we will not be finished until you answer my questions."

"Unfortunately for you, I am in no mood to negotiate." Ren nearly spat the last word. Negotiating, with Rey, had been this mission's undoing. He'd let her manipulate him because he felt—what, sympathy? A measure of inexplicable kinship with her? He could still not explain the exact motivations that had triggered this derailment.

Or perhaps he was refusing to let himself explain it. Perhaps it was the tugging of the Light.

He could hear his Master's voice in his mind, telling him that he'd failed because he was weak. He knew he should force himself to examine every nuance of what had happened between himself and Rey, but his mind had already latched onto an avoidance tactic: that he had not failed—not yet. There was still a way to rectify this, he just needed to shrug off his interrogators and think through the situation.

He grew undeniably angry with himself as he considered this avoidance. It was cowardly, and there was nothing he should be afraid of. Nothing.

Certainly not this Resistance scum.

Enough.

Ren pressed his hands flat against the tabletop and stood. His chair scraped loudly across the bare floor before toppling over from the force of the abrupt motion. Brance didn't flinch. And though he mirrored Ren's actions almost exactly-Brance was either very brave or very stupid-Ren towered over the older man.

Ren schooled his features and voice into arrogant indifference. "I will not answer questions relating to the First Order," he said. He'd already said it countless times. "You will receive no useful intelligence from me."

"We will find your ship, and when we do we will know precisely where your course originated from. It will go easier for you if—"

"If you find my ship, it will contain no trace of the location of the First Order fleet." Ren had made sure of that.

"We'll see, Commander Ren."

Ren's thread of patience thinned even further, though he allowed a hard smile to touch his lips. "I guess we will, Major."

He gestured, using the Force to right his chair. He took his seat and crossed his arms, straining the seams of the ill-filling jumpsuit he'd been given. It was too tight in the shoulders and too loose in the waist, and only marginally comfortable. He refused to let the red Resistance icons emblazoned on the sleeves mock him, though they did prompt him to say:

"I trust that you have finished inspecting my personal items and have satisfied yourself that they contain nothing inappropriate. I would like to have them back."

Brance frowned, but did not allow Ren to distract him. "How did you locate this base? Does the First Order have this location?"

Ren sighed. Patience be damned.

"If you ask me about the First Order again, those will be the last words you speak." He didn't raise his voice; the quiet threat was enough of a warning. Ren met Brance's sullen silence with a bland stare, and after a moment Brance plucked his data pad from the table.

Brance paused in the doorway and drew in a long breath for courage before saying, "You might want to reconsider answering our questions. Some may begin to wonder what motivation we'll have to keep you alive, otherwise."

Ren raised his eyebrows, amused. That was quite an unexpected threat. Brance had more backbone than Ren had originally credited him with. "Trust the Force, Major."

If Brance was surprised at Ren's response, he gave no sign of it. "I assure you, Commander, I do." Despite the bold words, Ren could see a sheen of nervous sweat on the Major's forehead. His composure was crumbling.

Brance nodded to someone unseen, signaling for the energy barrier surrounding the room to be terminated long enough for him to leave. But back in the protection of the hallway, where Ren couldn't reach him with the Force, he made a show of signaling again: a slight twitch of his fingers toward the ceiling.

The lights in Ren's cell switched from the normal ambient light cycle to a harsh red light that radiated down from the center of the ceiling so that the edges of the room were cast into a blood-colored shadow. Normally this color spectrum, one designed to preserve human night vision, soothed Ren, but this unexpected transition was jarring to his eyes. And the way Brance had signaled… he had either meant to mock Ren's Force abilities, or demonstrate the control he had over Ren's situation. It was enough to cement Ren's thorough dislike of the man.

Ren clenched his jaw but defiantly clung to his self-control as he stared at Brance, watching as the Resistance Major turned and disappeared from sight. Once he was gone, Ren sat down on the edge of his cot, wavering between Meditating and seeking true sleep. At last he lay back and closed his eyes, seeking the temporary oblivion afforded by sleep.

The red light was so bright he could see it behind his closed eyelids, and it distracted him. He wondered how long his unwanted family connections would prevent him from receiving rougher treatment. It irked him that his own reputation and abilities might not be the true influence behind the cautious way the Resistance was treating him. But thoughts such would only rile him, when what he needed was calm.

Breathing slowly, he edged toward full sleep with only a sliver of his senses left aware to detect potential danger. At some point in the quiet depths of the night, those finely honed senses triggered Ren to open his eyes.

A man stood over him, limned with a blue aura. Beyond him, the room's red light was muted and slightly blurry as though the fog from the planet's surface had rolled into the Resistance base.

Ren sat up, instinctively Force-pushing the man away from him. The shove moved through the man harmlessly, rustling his brown robes as though it was only a pleasant breeze. The man reached up to lower his hood, revealing an aged but lively face framed by a white beard. He smiled, amused.

"You're a pitiable sight. What have you done to yourself?"

Ren knew that face. He knew that voice from holovids he had studied long ago. He knew this man was a Jedi, though Ren couldn't sense his power now, because this man was dead. Ren tilted his head as he considered the apparition. He didn't think this was a true vision, and he hadn't allowed himself to dream in a decade. This was something entirely new. New and apparently untouchable.

"Luke must be trying to manipulate my mind."

Obi Wan Kenobi—Ben Kenobi—shrugged. "It is hardly worth anyone's notice if a dead Jedi Master wishes to see what his namesake has made of himself."

Ren decided to ignore the reference to his abandoned name. "You didn't deny his involvement."

"Sly, aren't you." Kenobi slanted him a sidelong look. The blue aura around seemed to shimmer, briefly strengthening before fading back to a bare glow. "I came to see you. To speak to you. To help guide you, if you'll let me."

Ren barked a surprised laugh at the gall of the dead man. "I already have a Master."

"What you have is a farce."

"A strange strategy: insulting me and my Master while asking me to trust you."

"I give the truth, not insults. You are drawn to the truth, to the will of the Force. I can sense that in you."

"What a lofty position all your vaunted Jedi training has earned you," Ren said dryly, laying back down on his cot. He laced his fingers behind his head, trying to signal with his body language that he wasn't interested in being lectured. "I'm awed at your intuition. Really."

"My current state does have its advantages, yes," the dead Jedi Master said evasively, otherwise ignoring Ren's sarcasm and unconcern as he crossed his arms and gave Ren a hard stare. "That, and my experience, gives me a certain perspective."

"Perspective," Ren repeated. Kenobi was doing the impossible, living beyond the grave-yet part of Ren resented Kenobi's interference. His time had gone. "Is this the part where you urge me to cast of my designs on power and authority, and return to the Light?"

Kenobi snorted. "Hardly. I trained your grandfather. I know that Skywalker blood is too stubborn to try to talk into anything."

The reminder of how intimately Kenobi had been associated with his grandfather sobered Ren. He sat up again, straightening his posture from the slump of the bored to the diligence of the student as he tried to decide the best way to respond.

Kenobi pressed his lips together in a clear attempt to hide a smile. "I knew that would get your attention."

"Then you must realize what I want to know."

"Perhaps. I knew Anakin well. His power was remarkable, yet he was as imperfect as any other human."

"And your point is that he returned to the Light even after straying to the Dark side," Ren said. "Your point is unconvincing. Consider at all he achieved as Darth Vader."

"No, my point is that the Force encompassed everything he did. He was man of extremes: extreme feelings, extreme methods. You clearly desire to cultivate the power your grandfather had, to achieve the same greatness. But that desire is flawed: the two of you are very different men. No—listen to me. Rather than replicating someone else, you can build your own greatness if you don't compromise who you truly are."

Ren resisted the message, wanted to ignore the old man completely—but his words were reminiscent of the challenge that Rey had lain at his feet, a taunt that haunted him: that she wasn't capable of demeaning herself because she didn't try to change the core of who she was… unlike him. It shamed Ren that she might think so little of him.

But Kenobi wasn't finished speaking. "Anakin thought it was prophesied that he would bring balance to the Force on his own. What he forgot is that balance is really only compromise between two or more separate forces. It cannot be achieved in isolation. You, unlike Anakin, are capable of striving for balance rather than living in extremes." He pursed his lips, considering. "Perhaps you have already begun to realize this? Your family—"

Ren's mouth twisted. "Don't tell me about my family. The Knights of Ren are my family now."

Kenobi sighed, clearly about to change his angle of attack, and then looked abruptly towards the door as though sensing something approaching that was beyond Ren's own perception. He raised his hood, and slowly got to his feet. "Face the truth. And may the Force be with you." He faded from sight.

Ren's eyes snapped open. He was laying on the cot with his hands behind his head, his skin painted red by the harsh red light. He was sweating, his heart racing, his chest heaving—rare outward symptoms of a mind more conflicted that it had been in years. Face the truth. What truth? Had that been a dream? Ren ran his hands over his face, scowling, then sat up and brushed his hands back through his hair.

The Resistance was watching him, studying him. He couldn't afford to be so affected by Kenobi's cryptic messages and Luke's mind games. He eased into a brief callisthenic routine that made him feel slightly more normal, but his hands were still shaking as he stepped out of his jumpsuit and into the small refresher.

In the only moment of privacy he was sure to have, as the water of the brief cleaning cycle blasted away his sweat and fatigue and confusion, he searched for the calm of the Force. But he couldn't quite center himself, not until he faced what he had been denying. That truth sprang to his mind, suddenly, as though the lurking thought was eager for his acknowledgement.

Kenobi had been right, damn him.

Ren's lips formed a word, spoken on a ragged breath, a symbol of the only thing that eased his frenzied mind, even though it shouldn't. Even though it made no sense at all.

"Rey."

Chapter Text

Chapter Six: Brace

The brilliance of Sumarin's sunset almost made up for the lackluster day Rey had spent in Meditation with Master Skywalker, trying to forget about Kylo Ren. Sumarin's twin suns, locked into a fatal orbit with one another and ceaselessly spiraling ever closer to oblivion, faded slowly from sight as the world spun on, oblivious to its inevitable destruction when the two suns met. Rey watched as the sunlight slowly retreated across the forest, leaving behind a line of leaves emblazoned in gold that faded too soon into shadow. A cool calm settled over the Resistance base. Fingerlike tendrils of fog reached across the landing platform as though to hide all evidence of the occupation, but were blasted away by the wash of the X-wing's engines as the snubfighter gently landed.

Poe Dameron sat nestled within his cockpit for several moments more, slowly shutting down the engines and ensuring that all was in order before popping the canopy and leaping down onto the tarmac. "Triple-check the post-flight checklist for me, would you, BB-8?"

Rey raised a hand in greeting at the pair as BB-8 whistled an affirmative, then stood to look down on Poe from the crate she had perched on to wait. He grinned at her as he pulled off his battered flight helmet and tucked it under one arm so he could loosen the cuffs of his gloves.

"Rey! What are you doing up there?"

She shrugged with a smile, not wanting to admit that she had chosen to wait atop the pile of crates just as an excuse to climb them. She missed the exertion of climbing, missed the thrill of clambering over the wreckage that littered Jakku's surface, and the exhilaration of peering out at the desert from atop the twisted ruins of a once-mighty Star Destroyer. "I wanted to be the first to tell you," she said instead, easing down off of the crates. "That Finn is awake."

"He's awake?" Poe repeated, as though the importance of the statement needed to permeate through the more immediate cares and concerns of his flight duty. And then his eyes lit up. "He's awake!"

"As of an hour or so ago," Rey said as he grabbed her up into a brief one-armed hug that almost knocked all the air out of her. His laughter was contagious. It was a relief to laugh after taking herself so seriously all day, even if it made her stumble over the words: "I haven't gotten to talk to him yet, they have to debrief him and make sure he's stable. But—he woke up!"

"I knew he would," Poe said with a wink. "Finn is a survivor. I'm going to see if they'll let me see him."

He ran from the landing platform, thoroughly ignoring her warning that Finn couldn't have visitors yet. As Poe's orange jumpsuit faded into the night, her glow of joy faded with it, leaving behind the sense of wanting that she'd been struggling with all day.

It was a relief to stand in the darkness, off to the side of all the hustle of the hanger, and let the sultry night settle over her. Far above her, dozens of strange insects flitted around the landing pad's illuminating floodlights. Beyond, in the forest, the nightlife began to stir, announcing itself with guttural croaks and echoing clicks that rose and fell in rhythm. The fog swirled around her legs as she considered the mortification that had clung to her all day: of not only explaining to Master Skywalker what she had done to the lightsaber and why, but then sketching an outline of the vision that had stemmed from that crystal. Master Skywalker was calm, and kind, but understandably disappointed—and that made Rey's guilty conscious even worse.

The close darkness recalled the vision, of course. She couldn't help but remember how good the intimacies had felt. It was strange to yearn for more of something that had never actually happened—something that never would happen, she told herself firmly. Not with Kylo Ren. It was impossible.

So far in her life, she had only known two different men in such a way. They each had made her laugh, and captivated her with talk of their off world adventures, and she had invited them back to her small home on Jakku just to banish the loneliness. It had been a simple thing, and in the morning they moved on, leaving her with a few fond memories. Those memories paled next to the vibrancy of her vision. There was something irresistible about it.

It would never be a simple thing, with Ren.

She should never have taken the lightsaber. She should never have dismantled it. But far and above the other mistakes, she should never have given in to the desire to touch that crystal. It pulled at her now from its hiding place in her jumpsuit pocket, wrapped carefully so that she wouldn't touch it, as Master Skywalker had bidden. She was determined to ignore it, this time.

Rey turned away from the landing pad and passed through the hangar. Passing the lure of the mechanics' projects, she walked aimlessly down into the depths of the compound. Trailing her fingers along the rough stone wall of the corridor, she turned a random corner at the next intersection, intentionally heading in the opposite direction from the medical bay. And there they were: another intelligence specialist and security officer duo, watching the display screens as Kylo Ren sat at a table opposite Major Brance. She could sense Master Skywalker there, too, studying his failed pupil from a distance that wouldn't incite a Force battle.

Rey didn't enter the room. Instead, she closed her eyes. When she focused, she could feel the flaring of Ren's presence in the Force. She'd been ignoring it all day, and allowing herself to touch it now felt like she was breaking a self-imposed rule.

Sensing the Force in others, and knowing they could sense it in her, still struck her with awe to the very marrow of her bones. Unfortunately, though it sometimes gave her hints of strong emotion, it didn't reveal the character of the person wielding that power. It offered up no guidance of what she should do about Ren; despite all he had done, Kylo Ren did not radiate evil, and the Force in him burned neither Light nor Dark.

The ambiguity of it made up her mind. She needed to replace the heat of the vision with the harsh reality of what Kylo Ren really was: cold and tyrannical. To do that, she needed to see him.

Rey nearly collided with Major Brance as she made the last turning in the deep corridors leading to Ren's cell.

"Our young Jedi Apprentice," Brance said with an indulgent smile, pausing to incline his head respectfully at her. "Perhaps your shared abilities will encourage Commander Ren to be more forthright with you than he has been with us."

Commander Ren. She'd been so wrapped up in considering his relationship to the Jedi, and to her, that she hadn't truly stopped to consider the weight of his authority within the First Order. Another mistake.

Still, Rey straightened her shoulders and forced a smile. She liked Brance; unlike some of the other Resistance officers, who looked at her as though she was destined to perform miracles now that Master Skywalker was found, Brance treated her at her like she was an actual person. "I hope they will, Major." She hadn't been sure if they would allow her to see him, but if they thought Master Skywalker had sent her… "I haven't been to the cell yet, is there anything specific I need to do in order to get in?"

"There shouldn't be a problem, everyone knows who you are. Just stand near the cell and wait for technician to drop the energy shield, and you can trigger the door. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to report our progress to the General."

The Major gave her an encouraging nod before leaving. Rey looked down the long hall towards Ren's cell; she could just barely make out the shimmering of the shield at the far end of the corridor, and the armed guards standing at their posts on either side of the door.

"May the Force be with me," she muttered under her breath, a talisman to give her the strength to walk towards the cell.

"This is interesting."

The intelligence specialist leaned forward in his chair, glancing between the two different views of the surveillance display: one focused on the cell, the other covered the hallway just outside. Apprentice Rey stood just beyond the energy shield, but when it dropped, she hesitated before moving toward the blast doors. He nodded toward his security officer counterpart. "Better get ready to call in reinforcements if things start getting tetchy."

Behind them, General Leia Organa shifted, turning to whisper to her brother, "Luke, I really hope you know what you're doing."

"She's down there of her own choice, Leia. I didn't have anything to do with this."

"That's not what I mean," she said darkly. "And you know it."

Luke smiled at her dry tone, and draped an arm around her, pulling her into a hug. She rested her head on his shoulder. "He won't harm her, I can sense that much."

"That's not what I meant either." Leia sighed, wistful. "I want to see my son. In person. I need to see him. Reports from Brance are not enough, not when he's right here."

"I know," Luke said. "I know. But be patient." He nodded toward the screen, where Rey was just lifting a hand to trigger the blast doors to open. "We both just have to be patient."

"I have…" Leia shook her head, letting the remark go unsaid as she watched Rey step into her son's cell. She wanted to trust Luke's instincts, she really did. But she had instincts he didn't have: a mother's intuition. I have a bad feeling about this.

The blast doors whispered open, but Kylo Ren refused to open his eyes. He didn't need his physical senses to recognize who had come down to see him; her presence in the Force was unmistakable.

He was Meditating, or had been before she interrupted. He was still sitting cross-legged on the floor, taking a moment to rein in his breathing and his thoughts after the mental trial of dealing with Major Brance, when she finally spoke.

"You didn't do it."

She didn't sound angry. If anything, she sounded triumphant. Almost like she was laying a trap, or daring him into a confrontation. It was not a tactic that people normally took with him. Intrigued, Ren resisted the urge to open his eyes. "I didn't do what?" he asked, cautious.

"You didn't kill him. Finn. It looks like he's going to pull through."

Ren sighed. That damned traitor, again. "You came down here to gloat?"

"Yes."

The self-satisfied answer was so honest that he opened his eyes. "That can't be all you've come for."

Rey raised her chin in defiance, but she still looked ragged around the edges, much as he felt. Her dark jumpsuit was clean, but rumpled. She was wearing her hair down, and it curled loosely around her shoulders, still damp from a recent attempt to wash away her fatigue. But that didn't seem to have worked—he could read weariness on her face and in the slump of her shoulders, and wariness in the nervous movements of her hands. When she finally met his eyes, he could see that hers were bloodshot. She sighed, and sank down into the chair closest to the door.

Rey stared at her folded hands on the table as she admitted: "I wanted to ask you something."

He raised his eyebrows, surprised that she didn't try to dissemble. "You would let them use you as an interrogator? How disappointing."

Rey leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms in contemplation. "I'm not here to interrogate you, Commander. I already know the truth about why you're sitting in this cell. Part of it, anyway."

"Oh really?" Despite his covering sarcasm, her words resonated within him. Face the truth. He pushed himself to his feet, but only long enough to cross the room and take the chair opposite her. "Explain."

"You're not in a position to demand anything from me," she said, overly defensive, but the harshness of her tone was undercut by the deep blush that rose to her cheeks.

She was trying to goad him, he realized. It was a clumsy attempt compared to Hux's murderous subtly. He smiled, amused and curious why, but said nothing. Her blush deepened, and he sensed a surge of embarrassment radiate from her—but then she drew in a breath and held it, obviously searching for calm.

"If you close your eyes," he suggested quietly, "the exercise might work better."

The held breath whuffed out of her in indignation. "I don't need you to tell me how to Meditate."

"Then say what you came here to say." It was an effort to keep his voice mild, and he wasn't sure if he was agitated because she was trying to rile him into it, or because it was hard to remain stoic when she was watching him so closely. She made him vulnerable, and it had been Kenobi's strange visit that made him realize it. He could do nothing about it now aside from force himself to be unyielding. He tried to steel himself, felt his face slip into its stern mask as his body tensed.

Her only response was to jerk at the zipper of her jumpsuit, pulling it down far enough to expose the lines of her neck, and the slight shadow in curve a collar bone. She looked deceivingly delicate, but Ren knew that was a lie; she had survived alone, scavenging, on the outskirts of a backwater trading post on a backwater desert planet in the Western Reaches. And she had made it from there, to here. Nothing about her, body included, was delicate.

Ren clenched his jaw, watching her carefully. He noticed the glimmer of caution in her eyes when she pulled a small stained rag out of her jumpsuit's inner breast pocket.

The rag was wrapped around something about the size of a finger. She didn't need to unwrap it; he instantly knew what it was. He could hear it, whispering to him: the Kyber crystal from his lightsaber. He realized that he was standing, that he had knocked his chair over as he jumped to his feet. His head felt light. Control. He needed control.

"I found it in the fried out remnants of a dead lightsaber," she said vaguely, tucking it back into her pocket. So she knew the weapon had failed. That was a reason to gloat—Hux would have been side-eying him with smug superiority after a reveal like that—but Rey had the grace to look apologetic.

He had to consciously unclench his jaw and relax his fists. Two breaths diffused his fury. He could feel the crystal—his crystal, the intimate core of the lightsaber he had built, which she had obviously destroyed or dismantled. It called to him, damaged but still possessing some power, urging him to action. That Rey had it unnerved him more than he liked to admit, but better she had it than Skywalker. He had counselled Ren against ever using it in the lightsaber, and he had been right. Damn him.

"I suppose scavenging instincts die hard," Ren said, once he could control his voice. "Perhaps your Master hasn't yet taught you that, not only is it a breach of privacy to alter a lightsaber that is not your own, but it could be dangerous."

"I'm good at mechanics," she said, her tone dismissive. But the way she looked back down at her hands reaffirmed her guilt.

"Don't look away from me, Rey," he said, leaning intently forward. "What you did was an invasion. And you obviously came here tonight with the goal of angering me. Whatever your reasons, have the strength to face me now that you've succeeded."

His anger wasn't directed at her, not truly. It was the crystal that had betrayed him, short-circuiting the lightsaber. He didn't even want the lightsaber back, not if he could have the lightsaber that had belonged to the only family he still claimed: his grandfather.

She lifted her head, her eyes blazing. "I don't know what I was thinking, coming here."

Ren could sense her strongest emotions through the Force: confusion, and a deep, lingering embarrassment. An embarrassment so strong that she stood and turned toward the door.

"Wait. Stay."

He hadn't meant to say it. His voice broke midway through the plea, twisting it to sound like a demand. But Rey paused, half-turned away from him, to watch him over her shoulder.

"Stay," he repeated. He slowly took his seat, hoping that the motion could diffuse the tension that was growing so thick it threatened to drown him. "I can sense your conflict. Trust—"

"In the Force?" She stiffened. "Don't try to placate me. And don't try to convince me that you care about me at all." Her voice was clouded with pain, and something deep stirred within his gut, a mixture of anxiety and urgency. Her dismissal of his concern made him ache, a physical pain he never expected. His instinctual reaction to her made him uncomfortable, but before he could speak, she said,

"This is what I don't understand, Ren," she said, crossing her arms as she turned back to face him. "You abandoned your Jedi training, and you're currently a prisoner of war. How can you sit there so calmly and tell me to trust in the Force?"

"Because, like breathing, I do it without being consciously aware of it. The Force is the only constant thing in my life." He smiled slightly. "And I didn't abandon my training, I merely changed its focus."

"Changed its focus? I find it hard to believe that the Force has urged you to do what you've done."

"The Force doesn't have a mind, Rey."

He expected her to interrupt, to argue, but instead, she perched on the edge of her chair, listening.

"The Force doesn't have motivations," he continued, rubbing idly at the stubble on his chin as he gathered his thoughts. "It isn't aware of morality. It's simply all encompassing. All encompassing. And we act on its stirrings how we will."

"We act on its stirrings how we will," she repeated slowly, her eyes growing wide, as though she was seeing him for the first time.

The room's lights clicked over to the night spectrum, dousing them in blood red light, and Rey jumped in surprise. The harsh lighting cast half her aspect into shadow. "The lights cycle on a day-night timer," Ren said, standing, grasping at any excuse to break her scrutiny of him. "You should go."

He hoped she couldn't read his expression as well as he could read hers, hoped she couldn't sense his confusion the way he could sense hers. Sentimentality. Compassion. Desire. They broiled in his mind.

But she didn't leave. "I had a vision," she said, her voice so low that he almost couldn't hear it. "And you were in it."

Vision. The word made him shiver. He forced himself to stand still, staring at the wall instead of at her. She was a master at making him uncertain of himself, and he hated being uncertain. He drew in a breath. He had to trust her, he had to face that truth.

"A vision?" He cleared his throat. "Tell me."

When she didn't answer, he turned. Her face was pale, her eyes distracted. He watched her for a moment, unmoving and silent. She narrowed her eyes and looked to the side, at nothing. Sweat beaded on her forehead.

Curious, Ren moved around the table to kneel before her. Her attention was turned painfully inward, perhaps on the cusp of another vision. There was nothing he could do to help her realize it except ensure that she wasn't disturbed. But the Resistance was watching, and might not understand what they were seeing. They would try to intervene if they thought he was harming her.

She blinked, seemed to shake herself a little, and looked at him. "They're coming," she said softly, numbly, before seeming to notice his closeness. She leaned back and wrenched her hand from his grip; he had been so transfixed that he didn't even remember taking her hand. "You lied to me."

He stiffened, shifting his weight from one knee to the balls of his feet so he could jump backward if she attacked him. "I have never lied to you."

"You told me you came here alone."

"I did."

"But they're coming. How did the First Order learn this location?"

She was struggling to believe him. And he desperately wanted her to. The only thing he could offer her was the truth.

"They've known the location as long as I have."

"They're coming," she repeated, raising her voice to ensure the Resistance surveillance equipment would pick up on it. "We've got to evacuate, the First Order is—"

She jumped to her feet the moment that the doors opened, partly shielding him as armed Resistance bodies spilled into the room. Ren caught the first blaster bolt again his open palm, snarling in pain as he used the Force to pull away the destructive power of the laser so that the shot wounded him vastly less that it should have. As the officer shouted uselessly for a ceasefire, Ren flung out his other hand, using the Force to freeze the next bolt in the air. The third bolt missed him, barely, but by then everything had descended into chaos.

"Stop it!" Rey's voice cut across the din of blaster fire. He felt the command pressing at his consciousness, but he had honed mental barriers to prevent such manipulation. The Resistance did not. "Lower your weapons!"

They stopped firing. Stunned, they lowered their weapons. Rey looked shocked that the command had worked, but Ren had no time to coach her now. Still holding the second blaster bolt in the air, Ren gestured with his wounded hand, brushing aside the bodies that stood between him and the door. They wouldn't be able to raise the energy shield unless they wanted to risk harming their own. It was his best chance.

"I wish you would come with me," Ren said, holding out that same hand to her. Blood welled from the deep blaster burn, dribbling over his outstretched palm and onto the floor.

Her eyes flashed. "I… I won't abandon my Master." Rey pulled a crude tool from her pocket and held it up as though she had half a mind to skewer him with it if he tried to take her against her will. "If you're going to go, then just go."

Ren edged closer to her. The Resistance shifted, but didn't fire at him. This surveillance recording would no doubt be scoured for any useful intelligence, so he didn't speak. He reached out to press two fingers against her palm, lowering her hand and the makeshift weapon, but his real goal was to bridge a physical contact with her. Her shaking hand clenched around the tool so hard that her knuckles were white. In his mind he recalled a memory of Hoth, the ice planet ringed by an asteroid belt, devoid of almost all life. I won't abandon you, he promised silently. Come to me on Hoth.

Her eyes narrowed, but he couldn't tell if he had gotten through to her. He had no more time to wait.

Ren let the blaster bolt go, stepping aside so it shot beside him, exploding into the wall. Rey stared at him in disapproving silence, perhaps not realizing that she still controlled the will of the Resistance fighters crowding around her. None of them tried to stop him as he dashed from the room.

He remembered the route they had taken to get him down here, and sprinted in the opposite direction. The tunnel quaked, showering dust down onto his shoulders, and the dim hall lights flickered out. Ren glanced up, cursing Hux for his horrible timing. It wasn't supposed to happen like this; something must have gone wrong with the Knights of Ren, or they would have prevented this attack.

Ren paused at the next intersection, listening to the aerial attack on the Resistance base above as he tried to decide which way to turn. The loud clattering of footsteps echoed behind him. He spun around, preparing to reach out with the Force—and Rey, backlit by the red light spilling out of his cell far behind her, skidded to a halt just shy of colliding with him.

"You really didn't know they were coming?"

"If I did, don't you think there would be some sort of plan more involved than this?" He spread his hands in a sweeping gesture at the dark intersection before him, and as if on cue, the tunnel walls trembled again.

"You could have planned all of this!" she insisted reluctantly, raising her voice over the crash of cannon fire from above.

"No, this is all Hux." Another explosion drowned out his words. Tremors ran up Ren's feet and into his body, so strong they jarred his teeth. He managed to brace himself just as Rey threw out her hands for balance, stumbling sideways partway into the wall and partway into him.

He caught her, helping to keep her to her feet, as shouts echoed down the corridor: the Resistance guards, regaining their will to act. "Don't hurt them." Rey twisted in his arms to shot a look over her shoulder as the Resistance fighters surged forward, then jerked her chin in the direction of a side passage. "Come this way."

Rey slipped out of his grip and ran past him, grabbing his wrist at the last moment to pull him into the darkness. Ren ran, keeping close to her side so he wouldn't lose her in the dark. Twin Ion Engines screamed above, wavering as though out of control. He could feel the impact from the crash, hear the horrible thud of an explosion as something critical in the base was destroyed.

Ren's intuition flashed a warning, and he flung himself forward, pulling Rey into him. Merely a breath later, the corridor began to collapse, and the cacophony of the ongoing battle was obliterated under the roar of falling stone.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven: Reckless

Once, while scouting for scrap north of Niima Outpost, Rey made the mistake of setting foot in the Sinking Fields. An abandoned ship lured her in, made her dare to stray below the safety of the surrounding ridgelines. Desperation for a prize drove her midway across the field before she regained her sense, but by then it was too late. The sand, as it consumed her, weighted down her limbs so that she could barely move them, and filled her nose and mouth when she tried to breathe. The cool depths of the dunes blotted out the scorching sunlight. The only thing that had saved her was the last-minute precaution of tying herself to her speeder. But even then, the panic had nearly overridden her good sense. She truly thought that she was going to die.

Rey wasn't sure which was worse: nearly drowning in the sand, or this.

The darkness was so overwhelming it was like a physical presence smothering her. She lay sprawled on her belly in the middle of the passage, slightly stunned from her hard fall and the noise of the collapsing ceiling. Thick dust clung to her, the grit mixing with tears to sting her eyes as she struggled to choke down a clean breath. The dirty air was as thick as smoke, and her body lurched with wheezing coughs that she couldn't control.

Perhaps the only improvement this situation had over the Sinking Fields was that she wasn't alone. Though Rey couldn't see, couldn't hear over her heartbeat roaring in her ears, couldn't form a coherent thought—she could feel Kylo Ren's presence.

She flung out a hand, felt him lying next to her in the passage, body heaving as he coughed. A memory flashed into her mind: the drowning. Smothered. Trapped. But at least she wasn't alone.

"Rey? You still with me?"

His voice was hoarse, rough from hacking against the suffocating debris, but he still radiated a sense of calm control.

Like breathing, he'd said. That was how easily he gave himself to the Force. That was his strength, she realized, and what he'd used to perfect his unyielding demeanor. Rey envied his certainty even as she focused on drawing in a long, slow breath. When she exhaled, she tried to find her voice and emulate his confidence.

"I—I hit my head." For some reason that seemed the most important thing to say. She could feel the warmth of blood trickling down her right temple. Her head was reeling, and though she couldn't see, the tunnel felt like it was spinning around her. The blow still seemed to be echoing around in her brain, for all the sense her thoughts were making.

Vaguely, she heard a scuffling, boots scraping over stone, and then a hand touched her back. A weight settled over her, Ren's body pressing down against hers.

"Cover your face," he said, his voice too loud in her ear.

When she didn't obey, he pressed his hands to either side of her head with his palms over her ears, his fingers wrapping around to cover her eyes. He ducked his face against her neck, and Rey was keenly aware of every strand of his hair brushing against her face, his warm breath on her skin, the pressure points of his body nestled against her. The touch of his fingers over the broken and tender skin of her temple made her swear—but her cursing him was lost to the sound of another collapse.

The tunnel trembled as a fresh wave of dust blew over them. Rock chips cut into any exposed skin before clattering down onto the stone floor. Once it had settled, Ren uncovered her head, but he didn't move away from her.

"You were holding the rubble up?" She asked, half-way disbelieving, as she rolled slowly over onto her back. The movement dislodged him, and she shivered as his body heat drew away from her.

"Briefly. I diverted its fall."

"How?"

"Sustained Force push. But," he added grimly, "I could only hold that much mass for a few seconds."

"You have good instincts," Rey said quietly, surprised at how easily she could admit it.

"They've sharpened out of necessity. As have yours."

It was an odd compliment, yet it made Rey smile even as another explosion reverberated down from the continuing attack. Silence fell between them as they listened to the assault. Rey wished she knew what was happening—had the Resistance evacuated, without her? Was Poe up there in his X-wing, possibly outgunned and outnumbered? Would Finn be able to defend himself if the base was invaded? Was Master Skywalker looking for her—?

Ren cleared his throat, distracting her from her nausea-inducing worry. "Do you still have the crystal?"

It took Rey a second to realize what he was talking about. "Hopefully." She sat up, pulling her legs in to sit cross-legged, and reached into her jumpsuit pocket. Throughout the standoff between Ren and the Resistance forces, the run through the tunnels, and then the collapse, it had remained safely in place. She drew it out of her pocket, shaking it gently so the wrappings loosened over one end. A small shimmer of light shone through the thin rag. The crystal whispered to her again, calling to her with words she couldn't understand… and wasn't sure she wanted to.

Rey shivered, dreading that at any moment, another vision would begin to pull at her. "I promised Master Skywalker that I would keep an eye on this."

"You will. I just want to use it to see where we're going," Ren said. And then, as if he thought she didn't believe him, he added, "It betrayed me once, I don't intend to keep it again."

She let him pluck it from her fingers. As he unwrapped it, the intensity of the crystal's glow surged, suffusing a soft white light around them. Rey blinked, letting her eyes adjust to the light for a moment, before glancing over at him—and stared, entranced by the captivating way the glowing crystal was reflected in his dark eyes.

Then she noticed all the dirt. It was plastered onto his face and in his eyelashes, and coated his hair and jumpsuit. She knew she looked just as pitiful; their jumpsuits weren't suited to an environment of fine particulates, not like her usual desert wraps. She was already itching from the grit that had somehow trickled through the material of her clothing to grate against her skin.

Unlike Rey, Ren didn't have any obvious wounds—until he reached out with his free hand to stroke back a lock of her hair from her bleeding temple. The blaster wound flared an angry red on his palm, the burn surrounding a blackened and charred area of cauterized flesh and blood.

She gasped when she saw it. She thought that first shot had missed him. "Your hand—"

"Your head," he retorted, distracted, narrowing his eyes at the wound. "It looks deep."

"I've had worse." Rey turned her head, intentionally blocking the wound from his sight. He kept his hand poised near her temple, as though he still wanted to brush her blood-matted hair from the wound. The slight movement of her head made her dizzy, and she swallowed hard against the sudden rise of nausea.

He watched for a moment before dropping his hand. "Earlier, you were going to tell me about your vision. Involving me."

Rey tensed. "I don't think this is the time." Not when his presence was so comforting, in a similar dark, and the intimacy could so easily become a reality. She pressed her hands together to hide their trembling. "We just—we need to get out of here."

He nodded to himself as though he'd expected her non-answer, and the shadows cast by the tumbled-down rock shifted as he stood. "In a warren like this, there has to be another way to the surface." He shifted the crystal to his wounded hand, then held out his other in an unexpected offer to help her up. Rey clenched her jaw against the swirling in her head as she stood, determined to find her balance on her own.

"There better be," she said, once the world had stopped spinning. "Let's go."

"You're very stubborn," Ren said, and when Rey shot him a hard look, she saw that he was smiling.

He tried to hide it, but there was something about the unexpected smile that made Rey admit, wryly, "I've been told that before."

Ren held the crystal up before him to light their path as they walked down corridors that looked as though they had been abandoned for centuries, forcing their way through doors that had once been bolted shut but had cracked open from the force of the onslaught. The stone walls gave way to dirt. At long last, the pummeling from above them quietened. Whatever the result of the skirmish between the First Order and the Resistance, it sounded like it was over.

They walked for an indeterminable distance, the silence broken only by their feet scuffling against the dirt floor. Rey's breath sounded oddly loud in her ears. She thought black spots were dancing in her vision, but the passage was so dark it was hard to tell. She bent forward, focused on the task of getting out.

Her equilibrium tipped as she went light-headed, and she stumbled forward. "Wait," she said, flexing her whole body to try to shunt blood to her brain in a nearly-futile attempt to stay conscious. "Ben, I need to rest."

She didn't give him a chance to protest, and sat, more heavily than she intended. He crouched down beside her. "How's your head?"

"Spinning."

"You must have a concussion." He held the crystal close to her face, so close she winced away from the light. "Look at me," he insisted, hiding the light with his hand to dim it enough for her to fully look at him. He peered into her eyes for a moment, made some determination. "Yes, you're concussed. But only mildly."

"Only mildly. Good," she said, sarcastically. "I'm glad you're here to tell me these things."

"You just called me Ben," he said, his voice equally dry as shifted the crystal to hold it between two fingers. Then he took her hands in his and stood, using the momentum to help pull her back to her feet. She was so focused on what he had said that she didn't resist. "I'm going to assume that was the concussion talking."

"I thought I…" she drew in a breath, tried again. "I meant to say Ren." Rey stared at her hands in his until she was sure of her balance. And then she looked up, meeting his eyes. Her heart began to race, not because she was leaning against his chest, but because she knew she couldn't stop herself from asking: "Why did you change your name?"

"I thought it would help me to let go of certain parts of my past." He sighed and frowned, contemplative. "This isn't something that I like talking about. Like you don't like talking about your vision."

"I don't know what it's like, to try to avoid a past. I don't know what mine is. Or who my family were. Or why I ended up on Jakku." She shrugged. "It seems like it should be more painless, not knowing."

"But it's not, is it."

He could be far, far too perceptive at times. He wasn't probing her mind; he simply seemed to understand. For someone with the reputation of a heartless, brutal monster, he could be unexpectedly empathetic. Her perspective started to shift as though he was a fixed point in the passage with everything else was orbiting around him, and her fingers tightened in his. This time, she didn't think the concussion was the only thing to blame for the failure of her balance.

"We were both exiled, in a way," he continued softly. "The only difference is that I know who to hold responsible for mine."

Rey knew, without a shadow of a doubt, who Ren held responsible for whatever had triggered Ren's breach with his family and the Jedi. Master Skywalker. Whatever wrong Master Skywalker might have done to him, surely it couldn't be worth the cost of all that had fallen out since then? She shouldn't be aching for Ren, nor curious about what had gone so wrong in his past. But she was, and it was etching holes into all of her defenses as subtly as a reactant leak chewing away at the engine of a starship. She pulled her hands from his, forced herself to take a step backwards.

"Whatever your reasons were," she said, breathless as she made herself confront him. "It isn't an excuse for the terrible things you've done."

"I made choices, hard choices—do you think it's easy to stand up to your own family? Especially a family like mine? But I'll answer for those choices because they've built me into who I am today. What I can't stand," he said, his voice gruff, "is that you're holding some unknown thing that I haven't done, and may not ever do, against me. Because of your vision."

He cared what she thought about him, Rey realized. Even more unsettling was that she didn't want him to continue to believe that she despised him. Blast him, her throat was closing up as though to choke back tears. "I don't want to fight this anymore," she whispered.

He'd expected argument from her, had clearly braced himself for it. He narrowed his eyes at her gentler tone, seemingly caught off guard. "What—?"

She swiped at the betraying tear slipping down her cheek. "Just shut up, Ren," she said. She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his neck. He caught her about her waist, an instinctual reaction. The crystal tumbled, forgotten, into the dirt.

And as its light dimmed at their feet, she kissed him.

Kylo Ren had never considered himself rash.

There were a myriad reasons why he had developed a heated reputation. He stood against the Jedi. He had a quick and sometimes violent temper. He was studying the Dark side of the Force, which hardly anyone actually understood—but even those who were foolish enough to think that the Force was merely legend or superstition could agree that must make him a walking nightmare.

For whatever truth there was surrounding the name Kylo Ren, recklessness would have killed him years ago.

But Rey. She challenged him even as she slipped under his defenses, infiltrating his thoughts to undermine his self-assurance. It was hard to stay focused on his path when her very presence was an intoxicating distraction. A true scavenger, she reached toward the core of his being, threatening to destroy him as she searched for something in him that she deemed worthy. The remarkable thing was that she didn't even seem to be aware that she was doing it.

"Rey." He bent his head to kiss her, gentler and more brief than before. "Rey," he said again, relishing the freedom to say her name. He pressed her back against the wall, enjoying the sensation of his body full against hers. Arousal made his heart race and his fingers tremble where they lightly traced the curve of her cheek and jaw and the lines of her neck, and her pulse under his fingertips was just as rapid as his.

"You wanted to know what was in my vision?" She laughed weakly, hugging him close enough that she could rest her chin against his chest as she looked up at him. Pressed full against her, it was easy to imagine what her vision might have entailed. "Kiss me again."

He managed to resist the siren call, instead resting his forehead against hers. "Rey. This." He swallowed, tried to form a halfway coherent thought. "We need to think about this."

He stood for a moment just holding her, trying to reconcile his emotions, letting the demanding waves attraction and want wash through him with every rapid heartbeat, so that he could think. But it was hard to think when she was looking up at him with those bright eyes, and her flushing skin that rose with gooseflesh under his fingertips told him that she did care for him. That perhaps she even wanted him. He tried to catch his breath.

This would not end well, he knew that—not with their Masters arrayed against one another, their training fundamentally different. Ren wasn't ashamed of his feelings for her; he would just need to rein them in, controlling them to give him strength. But her training would encourage her to abstain from any type of emotional attachment, if she stayed with Skywalker.

A larger and more dangerous problem: his own Master wanted Ren to bring her to him. Ren knew he couldn't force her to go. If he did, she would resent him for it, most likely hate him for it, and he wasn't sure what his Master's ultimate goal with her was. Ren wouldn't risk it on her behalf; if she went to Snoke, it would have to be her own choice.

He never expected this. He never expected that he would ever flat-out refuse to do something his Master commanded of him. His mind reeled at the implication.

"Rey, I—" Damn him, he couldn't admit out loud what he had only just begun to understand himself.

She reached up to run her fingers through his hair. "It's alright, Ren."

The light touch of her fingers stroking his scalp made him shiver. He fought for rationality. "This path won't be easy."

"Weren't you the one that said that the Force is all encompassing, and that we act on it however we choose to? There's something strong between us, Ren. This is how I'm choosing to act on it."

"I feel it. I've always felt it." And for all he knew this couldn't last, for all he knew he was probably dooming himself to misery in the end, he kissed her anyway. And she kissed him back. Their decision, their commitment. It was hard to trust anyone but himself, but he would try.

Too soon, she pulled slightly away from him, ending the kiss. "I think I hear…" She paused. "Starship engines. Not a snubfighter, something slightly bigger."

He couldn't hear it, but he believed her. "Like a transport carrier? We must be close to the surface." Ren stepped reluctantly away from her, and bent down to snag the crystal from the dirt. He reached outward with his senses as they began walking again, but the sheer amount of life in the forest above overwhelmed him, and he couldn't hone in on who or what might be piloting the nearby ship.

"I think the Resistance evacuated," Rey said grimly, staring unseeingly towards the ceiling. She didn't explain, but he knew why Rey had come to that conclusion. He could feel it too: Skywalker's presence, drawing away from them. Ren sobered as he considered his old Master. Probably he was up in an X-wing, trying to create a distraction so the bulk of the Resistance could flee.

A rat taking on a rancor. Some things never changed.

"You're scowling," Rey said suddenly, from behind him. "I can't see it, but I can feel you brooding. Why do you think Master Skywalker deserves to die?"

He clenched his jaw, searching for a simple way to explain. "Growing up, I was told the same stories that you probably heard: that as the last of the Jedi, he was a legend. That he could do no wrong." He glanced over his shoulder, saw that she was nodding in agreement, and shook his head.

"Those stories are a lie. He's not a true Jedi. He barely even started training before he got too embroiled in the Rebellion and left his Masters. He's flawed, just like anyone else. As are his methodologies for how the Force should be taught and used. He needs to be stopped. And before he is, I think…" Ren took a breath. His rant was building momentum, and he needed to reel himself back in, to keep calm. "I think that he will do you a disservice as your Master by holding you back from your potential, for fear of repeating his past. But he's going to repeat all of his old mistakes anyway. You don't learn from them if you flee from them."

"So do you think I'm a fool?" Her voice was very quiet, almost as though the words had slipped out unbidden.

"No. Loyalty and legend are forces to be reckoned with." He spread his hands. "I questioned them, you see the results. Judge for yourself." And as his proclamation echoed down the corridor, a warm breeze touched his face.

He stopped walking, closing his hand around the crystal to hide its light, and glanced up. Above them, through a gap in the rock that had been concealed by the shadows cast by the crystal, Ren could see starlight gleaming through patchy cloud. "Rey, look," he said in triumph. They'd reached the surface.

Her smile was brilliant. Her relief blossomed through the Force. "We did it."

She reached up, her fingers grabbing at the stone at the edge of the hole. Ren stepped toward her, ready to assist if her injured head threw off her balance. But she didn't need his help; she heaved herself up with the ease of long practice and disappeared over the rim, into the heavy night. A moment later, she thrust her hand back through the hole, as though reaching down to offer him help up. Ren grinned at the challenge, and climbed out into the open air.

What had been the roof of their passageway was actually a gently sloping rocky outcropping, one of many rising out of the forest. Excess rainwater rushed down from a higher bluff, slicking the rock and sluicing over his boots before plunging the short distance to the forest floor.

Ren could smell the battle through the freshness of the recent rainfall. Destruction and death were pungent, carried on the dark roll of smoke from the north that blotted out a swath of starlight. Rey stood with her hands on her hips at the edge of the rock, looking hard towards the Resistance compound.

"They'll be scanning for heat signatures," Ren said, joining her at the ledge. He pressed the crystal into her hand, and she tucked it back into her pocket without really seeming to realize it. "We need to get out of here. The Resistance didn't indicate that they found my ship, if we can get to it."

"Where is it?"

Ren turned, studying their surroundings. It was hard to make out any distinguishing landmarks through the steamy mists rising off of the never-ending forest. He had only found the base because he'd sensed Rey, and had trekked north for half a day to reach it. They'd need to head south to get back to the ship.

"Look!"

Ren spun, reaching instinctively down for his lightsaber. Rey's head was craned back as she looked far above them to the fringes of space. Her finger pointed toward the spectacle that was putting wonder on her face and starlight in her eyes: brief flashes of laser fire, bolts of red barely visible through the atmosphere.

Ren narrowed his eyes, uselessly trying to focus on what ships might be engaged in battle. Perhaps it meant that the Resistance really had evacuated, and were being pursued out of the system. If the First Order had taken control of the base, the whole area around it would be swarmed with troops. If it wasn't already.

"We need to go."

Ren scrambled down from the rocky outcropping, perching on the scant dry patches of rock before jumping down to the mossy, fog-covered ground below—and ducked as blaster fire blazed, making a crater out of the rock just above his head.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight: Impetus

"Freeze!"

A trio of stormtroopers stepped out of the woods, their blasters leveled on Ren. He suppressed a sigh. He was growing weary of being shot at.

"Hands on your head," said the foremost stormtrooper, taking a cautious step closer to Ren. He swept the weapon up, briefly scanning the ridgeline, before putting Ren right back in his sights.

Overzealous, this one. Hux had engineered them well. But it was a rare infantry trooper who knew what Kylo Ren looked like under his mask, and these had no idea who they were dealing with. Luckily for the troopers, he was keenly aware that his options to diffuse this situation excluded doing anything overtly aggressive toward them. Doing so would only add fuel to an immolation pyre that Hux was all too willing to ignite, and the last thing Ren wanted to do was throw away all he had achieved in the First Order.

But he wouldn't let them take Rey, either.

Ren crossed his arms instead of raising them, and the trio of stormtroopers surged a few menacing steps closer. "Hands on your head," the foremost stormtrooper said again, businesslike, following protocol to the letter. Ren's confidence grew with the knowledge that the trooper wouldn't shoot him until after the third ignored command for Ren to surrender.

He felt a swelling in the Force, determination, and sensed that Rey was about to try something. Ren slowly raised his hands, buying time for her to act. As he clasped his hands behind his head, the primary stormtrooper seemed to relax, satisfied that Ren would be no trouble.

"On your knees," the trooper said, approaching with a confident stride that didn't seem intimidated in the slightest by Ren's taller, stronger stature. The apparently-unarmed didn't inspire much fear after they had been marked by a squad of trained stormtroopers. When Ren didn't move, the trooper jabbed him in the gut with the butt of his blaster rifle. Ren was expecting that blow and had mentally prepared for it, but let himself crumple down onto his knees anyway, trying to draw as much attention to himself as he could.

He wished he could have seen the surprise on the trooper's face when the rifle was jerked from his hands with the Force.

"It's the girl!" One of the troopers in the back fired wildly toward the ridgeline. Chips of rock fell down around Ren's shoulders as the blasts hit low, and a moment later a blue stun bolt caught the offending trooper's shoulder and he dropped, unconscious.

As his compatriot fell behind him, the lead trooper pulled his sidearm pistol from the holster at his waist. He took one decisive step forward and pressed its muzzle firmly against the center of Ren's forehead.

"Drop the weapon, girl, or your friend dies," the trooper said, his voice utterly emotionless. Despite the threat, Ren resisted the urge to nod his head in admiration of the trooper's calm efficiency and adaptability under pressure. Even knowing that the trooper would execute Ren without question if the action aligned with his orders, Ren waited, curious how Rey would react.

"We're evenly matched two to two," Rey said defiantly. "You drop your weapons."

"Don't be a fool. You're out-armed."

"I'm not bluffing."

The pistol pressed to Ren's forehead gave a low whine as the safety disengaged, a subtle proclamation that the trooper wasn't bluffing either. But he didn't pull the trigger. They must have orders to try to take any prisoners alive.

Ren raised his head, looking squarely into the ocular sensors of the stormtrooper's face mask from around the blaster pistol. "Your performance is to be commended, trooper."

"Don't move." Despite the curt tone, Ren could sense a quake in his confidence; this was not how prisoners normally reacted when held at blasterpoint. The third trooper lacked the caution of his compatriot, and squeezed off a quick burst of shots at Rey.

Rey cursed, and her alarm from the near-miss was so palpable that Ren could almost taste it. Ren's patience abruptly ended. He stood, grabbing the trooper's forearm. The pistol fired harmlessly into the dirt as Ren jerked the trooper around into a chokehold, using him as a human shield to deter the third trooper from firing at him. The third trooper hesitated, unsure who was the more dangerous target, and Rey took advantage of the indecision to fell him with a stun bolt.

The first stormtrooper struggled, trying initiate hand-to-hand combat, but even if the Force hadn't been with Ren, Ren physically outmatched him. Wanting to end the struggle as quickly as possible, he reached with the Force towards the man's consciousness and stifled it. The trooper went slack in his arms, unconscious, and Ren let him slide out of his grip to lay still on the disturbed carpet of leaves.

Ren turned to look up at the ridgeline. Rey peered down at the troopers, breathing hard. She swayed a little where she stood. In the wake of the blaster fire, the forest was silent but for the water rushing across the rock.

Their eyes met, each seeking unspoken affirmation that the other was safe. Ren allowed himself one swift, searching look of her face before nodding at the blaster rifle she still held cradled in her arms. "You should leave that, they can trace it."

"They can?" She asked, surprised, and threw down the weapon. She winced at the motion, and Ren noticed a tear in the left side of her jumpsuit, just below her ribcage. She pressed a hand to her side.

"The shot didn't miss."

"Just grazed me," she said stoutly. "It's barely even bleeding."

That was the problem with blaster wounds. They could be more damaging than they first appeared, because they cauterized along the way to minimize blood loss. "More will be coming to the sound of blaster fire." Urgency threatened to spur his heartrate, but he didn't allow it to take root. "Can you climb down on your own?"

She set her jaw. "Well you're not going to carry me." Her eyes dared him to try it.

Her obstinacy amused him, but Ren tried to hide the smile. He bent to rummage at the trooper's belt as she carefully climbed down from the rocky shelf. Thanks to the trooper's aptitude, he found the battlefield medkit right where it should be, and grabbed the small box before urging Rey toward the trees. Their dark jumpsuits blended in well with the moss growing thickly on the wide and ancient tree trunks, and Ren hoped the dense forest growth would obscure their heat signatures from scanning eyes. Finally feeling more secure under the cover of the forest, he signaled a brief halt.

He gestured toward a nearby tree root that was jutting out of the fog. "If you sit, I'll check that blaster shot."

That she didn't argue was a testament that pain from her wounds was starting to overcome her resolve. The fog swirled around her as she perched on the low root, still clutching at her side. Blood welled between her fingers.

"Ideally," he said, flipping open the battlefield medkit to rummage through it, "you could use the pain to your advantage or to give you strength—or as you Jedi prefer, just ignore it. But in lieu of that, this is a stimpatch." He held up the small patch so she could see it, before pressing it into the side of her neck so it could leech drugs into her bloodstream. "It's a mix of stimulants and painkillers, and it'll help keep you on your feet for now."

"Stimpatch?" Rey said, her dazed expression slowly coming more into focus. Her breathing quickened. "Works fast."

"It's meant to keep troopers effective for as long as possible." He ripped open a small packet of flash-frozen bacta, and poured half of the contents into the wound on her temple. They would mix with her blood to revitalize, and seal the wound before beginning the healing process. That done, he used two fingers to pry apart the charred and blood-stained gash in her jumpsuit.

"I'm surprised you know about all of this," she said as he tried to get a decent look at her blaster wound. It looked mostly superficial, but was weeping blood. Just to be safe, he poured the rest of the bacta onto the burn.

"When I bring troops on a mission, I trust them to follow orders, and they trust that I know what I'm doing."

"Wait," she said as he started to pack up the kit. "Don't forget your hand."

"I'll bandage it later." He glanced down at the wound before closing his hand into a fist. The flash of pain was brief, but helped him focus. In any case, the palm was not an ideal location for using the flash-frozen bacta; even if it was, he had already used the kit's only package on her wounds. "It doesn't bother me."

"Because you're using the pain to your advantage?"

Ren raised his eyes to hers, surprised that she would ask. "It's just a method of concentration. When your painkillers wear off, I could show you."

"Jedi don't embrace emotion," she said, with a slight shake of the head.

Ren smiled faintly. "I'm not a Jedi."

She reached out to lightly touch his temple, her fingers hovering over the point of the scar she had given him with his grandfather's lightsaber, before brushing a few strands of hair from his forehead. Despite the gentle, almost intimate touch, her voice was firm. "I never want to turn to the Dark side, Ren."

I wasn't asking you to. He almost said it. But the truth was that he wanted her to climb out of the rigid mental ruts the Jedi methodology had mired itself in. He didn't want her to be afraid to feel. He covered her hand with his and said, "If you do, it won't be because I tricked you into it."

Her eyes widened, surprised at his candor. "I—"

"Commander!" The call was carried so weakly on the wind that it almost sounded like an echo from the past. Ren stood, turning toward the voice, and it took a moment for him to spot the bipedal figure gesturing at him through the dense stand of trees between them. Barely visible in the gloom beyond was a small starship, so sleek and gray that it had nearly been consumed by the fog.

Even now, years since it had first carried Ren to his new home with the Knights of Ren, the sight of the small yacht still drummed up the heady chords of reckoning within Ren's gut.

"I know that ship."

"Can you trust its pilot?"

"As much as you can trust a mercenary."

She arched a dubious eyebrow. "Which is none."

"Usually." Ren tucked the medkit into his pocket, and held out a hand to help her up. "Come on."

Everything ached, but Rey was determined to make it up the yacht's gangplank. The pilot—the mercenary, Rey reminded herself—ran up into the ship before them, and Rey was hardly aboard before the ship rose from the ground. Rey peered at the shrinking forest as the gangplank sealed, then followed Ren through the unexpectedly fine interior of the small common area, down a short corridor, and into the cockpit.

"I have a ship—"

"Not anymore," the pilot interrupted, leaning over the navcomputer. Her accent was heavy, but Rey couldn't place its origin. "I checked there first. It's been blown into dust."

Ren leaned down over the one of the cockpit's many displays as the pilot's hands flew across the control panel. "Who sent you to find me?"

"The Knights want me to bring you back to Hux. I don't know what Hux has to say about that. But the Finalizer is out there chasing down the Resistance, so we'll hide somewhere safe until things calm down."

The Finalizer. A jolt of panic shot through Rey's stomach at the name. She'd heard enough from her stint on Starkiller to know that was the name of the First Order command ship.

The mercenary flipped a switch, and the lights of the ship dimmed. "Minimal power. We'll wait in low geosynchronous orbit. Safest place to spy on the fight." The pilot pulled off her EVA helmet to reveal a slender face, powdered white, her features accentuated with dark makeup in a way that would make it impossible to identify her without it. Her hair was covered in a dark cap, and she wore an equally dark jumpsuit. The overall effect was striking, even more so when the mercenary focused her piercing eyes on Rey.

"Extra cargo, extra cost," she told Ren. "But I'm sure the Knights will be willing to pay."

"We always are."

"I know." The mercenary stood, crossing her arms as she stared at Rey, sizing her up. Rey was certain that the mercenary's eyes flickered across the Resistance emblem on Rey's jumpsuit, that she was beginning to speculate on why Kylo Ren would keep such company. Tactful, she only said, "I'd introduce myself, but there's no point. There's a client cabin in the back of the ship. It'll be cramped for two people, but should have everything you need."

"All I need is a refresher and some bandages," Rey said, unwilling to accept too much hospitality. No doubt it came at a cost.

The mercenary waved her hand, impatient. "All in the client cabin in the aft of the ship."

"Netal," Ren said, stepping between the two women. "Can you track the Resistance ships?"

"Of course I can, if you have enough credits."

"Then do it."

Netal raised her chin, as though she had caught him trying to play a trick on her. "Promise of payment is worthless if we're dead. I'll wait an hour or so to let the dogfight die."

"As long as you can still track them."

"I could track them across the galaxy," she said, her voice dangerous. "In an hour."

Rey left them to their negotiations, her curiosity of Netal overpowered by her rumbling stomach and the desire to wash off the layers of dirt and blood coating her. When she emerged from the client's cabin shortly later, she could hear Ren and Netal talking elsewhere in the ship, but she didn't search for them. Moving quietly so she wouldn't be noticed, Rey slipped down into the engineering compartment, seeking solace.

The engineering compartment was small, hardly more than a crawlspace set beside the engines in the aft bowels of the ship. Though she wasn't sure what type of yacht this was, it wasn't hard for her to identify the plating covering the ship's most important systems, all with untold modifications the mercenary had installed herself. Low power mode darkened the room, its only illumination the scant orange light filtering down from various access panels. It was a comforting darkness, nothing like the Sumarin's subterranean passages.

Rey didn't dare touch anything mechanical, but simply leaned back against the bulkhead next to the engines, calmed by the background humming as all the ship's systems systems worked in concert. She touched a finger to the stimpatch at her neck, wondering how long its effects would last. She knew she ought to figure out a way to get from this mercenary vessel back to the Resistance, but despite the drugs keeping her body on its feet and the pain at bay, her mind felt stretched thin. She tried to Meditate, and she couldn't settle.

On such a small ship, and it didn't take long for Ren to find her. The door to the compartment hissed open and she heard him come in behind her, his boots echoing on the metal grill used for flooring because it let heat leech from the engines to warm the rest of the ship.

"I found the full medkit."

"Me too." Rey turned her head to look over her shoulder so he could see the bandage she had inexpertly placed over the gash in her right temple. She'd tended to the grazing burn on her side as well; the bacta sealed themselves over the wound to make a scab she didn't disturb, and she'd slathered a pain-numbing cream over it.

The door slid shut as Ren stepped forward, bringing the medkit with him anyway. He'd clearly cycled through the refresher, as she had. While she had pulled her grimy Resistance jumpsuit back on in a show of defiance, he'd changed into the clothes Netal had brought for him: not his usual black robes, but an equally dark, understated utility jumpsuit. This one fit him, unlike what the Resistance had supplied, accentuating broad shoulders and tapered waist. It revealed the muscle on his tall frame—and with the dirt washed away from the scar on his face and several days' worth of stubble on his chin, he was undeniably, dangerously, handsome.

Rey wanted to say something—anything—to break the heavy silence between them, but nervousness and attraction swelled deep within her gut, rising to fill her chest and stifle her voice. She turned away from him like a coward, seeking whatever distraction she could see out of the compartment's small viewport.

Sumarin hung serenely in space, as unaffected by Rey's internal turmoil as it was by the ship pretending to be a piece of space junk in its orbit. Her mind raced faster than the blue-green features of the planet sliding by below them as Ren's reflection moved in the viewport, growing closer. He stepped up behind her and set the medkit aside on the ledge of the engine bank, and Rey realized that maybe she didn't need to speak at all. At least not with words.

Rey let herself lean back against his chest, and her eyes met his in the viewport. Her cheeks flushed as he reached up, slowly, to touch her chin, tilting her head up toward his. How long they stood there holding the kiss she couldn't say, it could have been minutes or a mere heartbeat—but she was consumed by his lips on hers, and the rising torrent of want battering at her as violently as the aerial attack on the base.

"Can I touch you?" His voice was a low murmur against her cheek, hoarse with desire. Rey nodded, and her stomach folded in on itself as she reached to undo her jumpsuit, but he intercepted her. As he lowered the zipper and slipped a hand under the fabric, he dropped his head to kiss her neck. There was something irresistibly sensual about watching their reflections as he explored the swell of her breast and the taunt plane of her stomach, stroked his fingers gently lower… arching under his touch, she pressed back against his hard body, heard him catch his breath as she moved against him.

Running his hands lightly along her skin, he slowly peeled her shoulders out of her jumpsuit and pushed it down over her hips. She stepped out of it and, standing naked with the chill of space surrounding her, all she could think of was the warmth of his touch. Letting instinct overcome her, she turned in his arms to face him, intent on getting as close to him as she possibly could.

And Rey felt that all the loneliness she had endured was worth it, if in some way it had led to these moments.

Afterwards, her body still intertwined with his, Rey tried to catch her breath. They'd eventually ended up on the floor beside the engines, Ren sprawled on his back as Rey straddled his waist. He sat up to kiss her, and she hugged his head against her chest. Her body felt flushed from exertion, but that didn't prevent her from shivering under his touch as his hands slowly slid over the curves of her back. He pressed a kiss against her breastbone, and the stubble of his chin scratching against her skin made her smile into his hair.

The skin of her inner thigh brushed against the fresh scar tissue over his left hip. The glancing bowcaster shot had brought him to his knees, but only that; she was still slightly astounded that he'd been able to get up and walk, let alone fight, after taking a wound like that. And the ferocity of their resulting duel…

"Rey?"

She blinked, realizing that she was clutching him into an embrace so hard that her nails were digging into his back.

Rey forced herself to relax. "There was something else in my vision," she said after a moment, leaning back from him enough so that she could watch his face. Another lightsaber battle. How could they go from this moment, to trying to kill one another? "We—"

He seemed to know what she was going to say. "Don't, Rey." He cupped her face with his uninjured hand. "Please, don't. Not right now."

His eyes met hers, unguarded and earnest, somehow—impossibly—more intimate than their physical connection. A thrill shot through her, as unexpected and sharp as blasterfire. She stared to speak, but the intensity within his gaze threatened to overwhelm her voice, and she had to clear her throat before she could manage to rasp a simple, "Then will you hold me?"

"Come here." He shifted so that they could lay side-by-side, facing each other, on their jumbled jumpsuits. He pulled her closer against him, his skin hot against hers. She closed her eyes, settling against his chest.

Lulled by his heartbeat, she betrayed an inner hope by saying, "You could come back with me."

He pulled away from her, shaking his head as he rolled onto his back. "No," he said, growing serious. "I can't. The people that I knew before want me to be something I'm not. I strive for self-improvement, and I've grown into a different man. I can't go backward to what I was before."

He briefly covered his face with his hands, rubbing wearily at his eyes before continuing. "I'm not ashamed that I deviated from the path of the Jedi, but they are, and they'll never forgive me for it. I'm not ashamed to care for you—but earlier you called me Ben, and if you want Ben Solo, or whoever you imagine Ben to be, then we'll only disappoint one another."

As Rey let his fervor wash over her, the engines roared. Light from the engine exhaust flared through the viewport to burn blue across his face. He seemed to be holding his breath in the wake of his speech, waiting for her reaction.

Her hands were shaking as she reached out, twining her fingers with his. "Kylo Ren. Ben Solo. Call yourself what you want. I want you, not a particular name."

Relief, eddied with desire, crept to her through the Force. "Then have me." Still looking serious, Ren gathered her against him. Kissing her deeply, urgently, as though hoping to prove her all of his feelings for her with that one kiss, he rolled to brace himself atop her, his body meeting hers again. She wrapped herself eagerly around him, unable to stifle a quiet moan of pleasure as their bodies moved in sync.

G forces pressed on them as the starship maneuvered from its orbit, signaling that they were running out of time. Green lights flickered on a panel next to her head, and the ship lurched again, entering hyperspace.

"Commander! Two minutes 'til the jump in." Netal's voice was barely audible as she shouted from the cockpit. But Rey heard, and so did Ren. Their bodies stilled.

Ren rested his forehead against hers and drew in a long breath. "Time's up," he said, his voice heavy with regret and unsated want. "We need to go up to the cockpit."

"No," Rey protested quietly as he shifted away from her. Pleasure that had not quite peaked began dissipate. Her heart hammered in her chest; she felt robbed that they had to stop, had to leave, before they were both ready to. "It's too soon."

"It's always going to be too soon." And then, because one of them had to get it over with, he rolled to his feet. He pulled his jumpsuit from the deck, but Rey lay there for a moment longer, trying to stretch their moment together by watching him dress.

As Ren straightened from doing up the laces of his boots, he seemed to realize she was watching him, and paused for a moment just to look at her. "You're beautiful," he said at last, and then ducked out of the engine compartment.

Alone, Rey swore, venting her clashing emotions as she gathered her strewn clothes. She refused to cry, even as the memory of his touch, and how they'd been interrupted, made her hands shake. It took her longer than it should have to make herself presentable. By the time she made it to the cockpit, Netal was preparing to revert the ship back to realspace.

Ren stood at Netal's shoulder, looking hard at the ship's instrumentation as Rey hesitated in the corridor just outside the cockpit proper.

"Might want to strap in," Netal warned, reaching for the hyperspace controls. "Who knows what sort of wreckage we're about to jump into."

Swirling blue resolved into individual stars as she killed the hyperdrive. And among those stars—

A torpedo whizzed by over the front bow and exploded. The ship rocked from the concussive blast, throwing Rey into the corridor wall.

"Shields are up," Netal, utterly unaffected as she gunned the ship into evasive maneuvers, diving down so sharply that Rey stumbled a few steps forward until she caught her balance. "What does the scanner say?"

Ren leaned forward toward one of the ship's many display screens, bracing himself against the co-pilot's chair to stay upright. "Resistance are running, First Order pursuing."

"Wow, really?" Netal said sarcastically. "Of course they're pursuing, or this battle would be over by now."

"Can you get close enough to fire a homing beacon onto one of their ships?"

"Yes, but it'll cost you."

Rey barely listened to them as she stared in awe out of the cockpit viewport. Slices of space were blotted out by the handful of Star Destroyers sitting at the periphery of the battle, launching wave after wave of TIE fighters. The TIEs met with X-wings in the gulf of space as beyond them the Resistance transport ships struggled to get away.

"I'll try to position myself in front of them," Netal muttered. "They may just think we're an unlucky freighter that got caught up in the fight."

The mercenary starship arched high above the battle, looking for an opening to dart close to a Resistance ship. As the transport ships drew closer, Rey felt a physical ache rising in her chest. She'd made a commitment to Master Skywalker, one she was unwilling to break. And she could never leave the Resistance for the First Order, she'd known that all along. This mercenary ship had gotten her off of Sumarin, but she couldn't follow through to the Finalizer.

And yet, like a foolish lovestruck child, her brain couldn't seem to stop obsessing with a single thought: I don't want to leave Ren.

She clenched her fists, annoyed with herself and the situation they had landed themselves in. But berating herself wasn't going to make her feel any better. She wasn't foolish and she wasn't a child; he'd already made his choices, and she needed to accept hers.

Ren straightened, as though he suddenly sensed something curious, and looked back at her. "You've decided."

A horrible premonition of finality dropped into her gut as the ship rocked again. He crossed the cockpit and bent towards her. "Be careful," he said, his voice so quiet she could barely hear it. "Snoke is dangerous, and he wants you. It's too late for me, but not for you. Tell them you escaped me."

It was a relief when he kissed her, a strange salve to the horrible meaning behind his words. Still kissing her, he took her by the shoulders and pushed her backwards a step. He ducked back into the corridor just as a small door slammed down between them. Confused, Rey reached for the door's controls. It was locked.

"Ren?" She darted a glance out of the minuscule viewport in the door, but he'd pressed his bandaged palm against it, effectively blocking the view. She touched her own hand against the transparent steel even as she grappled with what was happening. "Wait! Ren—"

Red lights began to flash in the small hold.

"No, damn you! I—"

Klaxons wailed a warning.

Rey had the presence of mind to drop into one of the small seats a moment before the escape pod jettisoned, spitting her out into the cold reaches of space.

x.x.x

Chapter Text

Chapter Nine: Beacon

Kylo Ren waited a moment in the corridor, leaning heavily against the door as the escape pod spun away. The Force will be with you, Rey. He watched as the small white canister joined the other debris of the space fight, and half-wished that he could summon it back.

But regret was a weakness, and he couldn't afford to be weak, not when he had to face his Master with the knowledge that he had let Rey go. He clenched his fist to physically crush the careless thought; it could get him killed. A fresh surge of pain jolted up from his wounded hand to help break up the strange tightness in his chest, but it didn't help him find calm. Instead the pain had the opposite effect, winding Ren's tension so tightly that it threatened to ignite into a spark of anger.

Saving that anger for Hux, Ren straightened, schooling his face into a well-practiced mask of grim determination. He didn't speak as he strapped himself into the co-pilot's seat, nor as Bazine Netal maneuvered the small yacht into the path of the nearest transport ship.

He had no doubt that Bazine noticed the steely shift in his demeanor, but her sense of self-preservation prevailed over curiosity, and she made no comment on it.

"They're throwing all their power in their rear deflector shields," she explained as she brought them around the bow of the lumbering transport ship. She triggered a switch beside her seat, ejecting a small device from the underside of her yacht. Perhaps in the distraction of the battle and their attempts to escape, the Resistance wouldn't think twice about the bit of junk that was on track to lodge near the starboard hangar bay.

But then an X-wing flitted by, and its laser cannon lit up the small homing beacon, easily sniping it into oblivion.

"Unidentified Yacht, this area is not safe. Do you require assistance?"

Ren knew that voice. Poe Dameron, the cocky bastard who'd blasted his way out of the finest Star Destroyer in the First Order fleet, aided by a traitor—and then somehow survived a crash-landing back on Jakku. Of course Dameron would be the one to find and destroy the homing beacon. Ren gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to trigger the comm, knowing that anything he said would bait the Resistance pilot into attacking them.

As much as he was in the mood to personally attend to Dameron's death, he didn't have the time to deal with him at the moment. Instead, Ren settled back in his seat.

"Ignore the flyspeck," he said, flicking his fingers in a lazy gesture as though the X-wing really was a simple pest that could be swatted away. "I need to get to the Finalizer."

Bazine nodded. As she brought her ship back toward the fringes of the dogfight, Dameron pulled his X-wing into a twisting arc back into its heart.

"It has not escaped my notice," Bazine said lightly, turning toward Ren as they finally entered the landing pattern on the far side of the Finalizer, "that I'm down one escape pod."

"I'll see that it's replaced." After a moment, he looked askance at her. She had seen and heard more than he preferred. He could alter her memories, but she had been loyal to him and to the Knights of Ren for as long as he'd known her. Instead, he suggested, "It's a pity that the girl managed to escape."

Bazine shrugged a shoulder, a silent agreement to say what he paid her to say. "I should have put her in binders when she got on board. She looked too beaten up to be a threat. Although," the mercenary continued slyly once she had settled the ship down onto the Finalizer's deck, "It's a good thing that I always keep a homing beacon prepped in each escape pod. In case I need to recover lost cargo."

Ren suppressed a flicker of surprise as Bazine rose and crossed the small cockpit. She slid a data pad from where it was hidden in a corridor panel, and leaned a hip against the wall as she considered the small device. "It's impossible to slice into the beacon's encryption without this. Should I give it to Hux?"

"No. Give it to me."

He watched her for a moment, felt the tendrils of tightly-controlled anxiety lifting from her as he stood. She didn't back away from him, as so many others did. Something had her on edge, but he didn't think it was him.

"You serve the First Order well," Ren said lightly, reaching for the data pad as a voice squawked through the comm, ordering Netal to power down her ship.

"That I do, Commander," she said, the amusement in her voice a false front to her increasing nervousness. Her hand trembled as he passed him the data pad. He accepted it slowly, beginning to feel uneasy. She did an expert job keeping her face from betraying emotion, but she couldn't hide from the Force. Darting through the dogfight and coming head-to-head with an ace starfighter pilot hadn't riled her, but something about entering Finalizer space...

She drew in a sharp breath, and Ren realized that he'd reached his hand out toward her, was on the point of probing her mind. He let his hand drop, and she followed its motion with wide eyes. But when she spoke, she sounded as unperturbed as she ever was.

"I'll remain docked here until the battle is over. You may disembark at your leisure."

Still wary, but confident enough to dismiss him—however politely—she briefly lifted her eyes to his before brushing by him in the narrow corridor to regain her pilot's chair. The glancing touch made him physically ache, a lingering effect of practically being ripped out of Rey's arms.

He cleared his throat. "Notify me when you've negotiated out your contracts, Netal, and I'll see that you get paid."

"Hope to work with you again, Commander," she said with a decisive nod before turning back to the control panel. He mused over the odd parting words as he marched down the gangplank into the hangar bay, and nearly missed a step as he realized it had been a cleverly-concealed warning. That, coupled with her uncharacteristic nervousness, was troubling.

Bravado wouldn't make him brush off her concerns. Even the strongest of Force Users could die.

Striding across the hangar bay, he felt his resolve harden. The anger he'd let simmer just beneath the surface began to boil; he had no patience for the Hux's sly, murderous intentions. Hux's ambition and paranoia had ignited Starkiller, inviting that disaster, and brought the tunnels of Sumarin crashing down on Ren's head. Now the Resistance was scattering, taking Rey and Skywalker with it.

Ren clenched his jaw, knowing that he would have to grant Hux another nearly unendurable reprieve, because Ren's Master still had use for the young General. Nearby sensor panels cracked, threatening to crumple inward as Ren passed by. Floor tiles and wall panels buckled under the force of his anger. No one was foolish enough to block his way to the command bridge.

When Ren entered the bridge, the command staff were so focused on their duties that they didn't notice him. Ren quickly scanned the long control room, his gaze flitting across the host of officers issuing orders to relevant specialists, who relayed the commands to the fighter squadrons and the rest of the fleet. Red hair caught Ren's attention, the red hair of a tall man dressed in black, who was looking over a specialist's shoulder to study her display.

"Hux."

Ren's whisper couldn't have carried across the controlled chaos of the command deck, yet Hux twisted to look at him. His sharp, blue eyes narrowed as he balanced Ren's intrusion against the considerations of orchestrating his ground invasion with the ongoing fleet engagement.

Hux scowled and looked back down at the display, his movements stiff. Other officers glanced up and over at Ren—and then just as quickly looked away. Tension blossomed throughout the bridge. Ren ignored them all, and stepped over to a side viewport just in time to see the Resistance transport ships pull slowly away.

On impulse, Ren reached out with the Force, wanting one last touch of her before the transport ships entered hyperspace. His thoughts had scarcely brushed against her presence when the ships left, taking with them the glimmer in the Force that was Rey.

Hux stepped back from the terminal that had been absorbing his attention. He turned, looking sharply at Ren, before clasping his hands behind his back. He walked toward a side conference room, his weedy form bent forward in determined haste, and Ren knew he was meant to follow.

Hux probably didn't realize that Ren could sense the squad of stormtroopers waiting within, their nervousness betraying their intent to retain him. Ren followed anyway, and as the conference door slid shut behind him, its slight, innocuous movement was made ominous by the shifting and scuffling of Stormtroopers pressing in close.

Before they could take two steps toward him or bring their weapons up, Ren used the Force to hold the troopers immobile. The weapons fell to the floor, swatted from suddenly incapable hands. Ren didn't—wouldn't—harm Hux, but the General's throat tightened nervously as Ren closed the gap between them.

Hux had chosen a poor moment to flex the muscle of his rank. Much good it did him.

"I don't like being ambushed, General."

"Then perhaps you should explain what you were doing down on Sumarin."

"Seeking to fulfill my Master's wishes," Ren answered smoothly. He spread his hands, gesturing at the Stormtroopers surrounding them. "This insinuation about my loyalty is not only irritating, but insulting."

"I don't care if you're insulted," Hux said, his voice rising in anger. "Your high-handed decision compelled me to act before we lost our advantage."

Ren circled behind Hux, had the satisfaction of watching the other man's shoulders tighten. "The advantage wasn't lost. My methods were subtle. Notice how they didn't flee the system until the fleet arrived? Your interference was... costly. And unnecessary. Skywalker was down there. Now both he and the girl are gone."

"Recruiting the Knights of Ren to subvert my invasion of the planet certainly did not make you appear innocent. I have half a mind to execute them for treason."

"You have no authority to give that order. The Knights of Ren answer to Supreme Leader Snoke, not to you."

Hux laughed, a harsh, bitter sound that grated on Ren's nerves. "Then it would behoove you to actually act like an ally. Must I remind you, Ren, that my mission is militaristic and political? I will hound the Resistance and its fracturing New Republic to the grave, and leave matters of philosophy to you."

"Philosophy," Ren mused softly, dangerously. He's a fool.

Unfortunately, the overall argument was sound. If Hux had been even marginally aware of Ren's goals on Sumarin, he might not have launched the invasion on the planet. And things… might have gone very differently.

His stomach clenching with a vague nausea, Ren reached into his jumpsuit to pull out the data pad. His hands were steady as he held it out before Hux's eyes, though his entire being trembled. Rationally, he knew that Bazine Netal would tell the First Order of the homing beacon even if Ren didn't. And Hux would certainly campaign against him if he suspected that Ren was withholding such vital information from the First Order.

That it needed to be done didn't lessen the vice grip that guilt had around Ren's throat. He spoke slowly and deliberately so that his voice wouldn't betray his feelings as he said,

"This data pad contains encrypted data allowing access to a homing beacon placed within the Resistance fleet. You'll get it when I can verify that the Knights of Ren have been released from captivity."

Fueled by sickening vindication, Ren tucked the data pad back into his pocket. He'd bought time, at least, for Rey to be well away from the capsule when the homing beacon went live. She was capable, intelligent, resourceful, but Snoke's desire for her was not a trifling thing; Ren wasn't sure if she would resent his interference, but he would do what little he could to enable her to stay out of his Master's reach.

Ignoring Hux and the troopers, Ren returned to the bridge. Sumarin, the planet that had changed everything, drew steadily closer in the nearby viewport as the Finalizer returned to support the ground invasion. Ren paused, entranced by the dark rainclouds swirling over the main continent. They reminded him of the planet's creeping fog, cool and concealing. The same view he and Rey had shared not an hour ago...

"Commander Ren?"

Ren didn't respond for a moment; he had to work to pull himself out memory. He didn't turn away from the viewport until he was confident that his face was serene.

A nervous-looking orderly tidied her uniform, pulling her dark cap down to completely cover her braided hair. When she realized she had his attention, she jerked her hand down, clenching it into a fist over her satchel.

"One of our ground troops recovered this," she said after he nodded at her to approach. She ducked her head as she held out the small cylindrical device. "They sent it up immediately."

He held out his hand, and the weapon flew from her grip to nestle with a satisfying slap into his blaster-burned palm.

It couldn't be.

Far beyond the Finalizer, the straggling X-wings jumped into hyperspace. It hardly seemed that any of the command personnel noticed. They were watching him as he held out the lightsaber and thumbed it on.

The blue blade of his grandfather's lightsaber hummed to life in his hands, dazzling him as it illuminated the bridge, its light as brilliant as the surrounding stars.

Rey gripped the restraints crossing her chest with white-knuckled fingers and sat, unmoving, as each near-miss battered the vulnerable escape pod. She was keenly aware of the lifesaving restraints synching down around her into an embrace so tight that they reopened the wound in her side, slicing deeper every time the pod was jostled. She held back gasps of pain within clenched teeth, refusing to acknowledge them even as the twisting G-forces piled on and piled on until she spun into oblivion.

The light beaming straight onto her face through the capsule's small viewport brought Rey gasping back to consciousness. She sagged against her restraints as the capsule spiraled away, escaping the light only to be caught up in it again a moment later. It was a snubfighter floodlight, she realized as the light struck her again only to slide away, taunting her. A shadow of a ship replaced it, drifting with her. Its pilot, skillfully keeping up with her careening escape pod, was dimly illuminated within the cockpit. The white helmet swiveled to look at her just as her capsule lurched to a rough halt.

The sudden stillness was jarring, but Rey smiled. She knew, despite the generic markings on the X-wing, that the pilot was Master Skywalker. His presence, the calmness and certainty, washed over her as the tractor beam of a transport ship reeled her in.

The pod scraped along the deck, and she waited until the Resistance had anchored it down before she released her restraints. She winced as she peeled away a portion of the protective webbing sticking to her skin with drying blood.

Without her Force-enhanced mental fortitude, she would never have been able to stand, cross the pod, and trigger open its hatch. She felt the Force fill her, enabling her to push her body beyond reason. This new sense of trust swelled within her until she thought she might overflow. It was strange to feel so confident when her mind was still reeling from the whirlwind of what had passed between herself and Kylo Ren.

She didn't know under what terms they would meet again, but the knowledge that she would see him again urged her onward to pull herself out of the escape pod.

Her pod sat at the farthest edge of a chaotic cargo hold. The hold, not even large enough to be a true hangar, was full to bursting, lacking any discernible organization. It looked like everything that hadn't been bolted down in the Sumarin base had been tossed haphazardly inside. She was so close to the hold's open doors that when she leaned out from the capsule, she looked down into deep space so vast that vertigo swirled within her belly. Barely a stone's throw away, the X-wing pirouetted in salute. Her Master's relief and approval of her wove delicately through the Force as he turned back into the fight.

Someone swore, and then a cluster of people were there to help her down onto the deck. They looked at her like they expected her to drop dead at any moment. Rey laughed as giddy elation took hold of her. She was more than merely alive, she was flourishing. She was—

She tried to take a step, and collapsed into a heap on the floor.

"And that's the post-adrenaline crash," a medic said grimly, kneeling down to inspect her. He reached for his medpack, but Rey's eyes were drawn over his shoulder.

In the gulf of space between them and the planet, TIE fighters streaked toward the transport ship. As the cargo old's doors began to close, she could see the Finalizer prowling closer in pursuit.

A light touch brushed against her mind—just a momentary caress, but unmistakably Ren. Before Rey could begin to make sense of the tangle of emotions surging through the brief connection, the transport ship made the jump to lightspeed. Loneliness washed over Rey as the Resistance left Sumarin—and the First Order—behind.

{Three months later}

She strode alone through the control center of the All Terrain Armored Transport, moving carefully through the blown-out and uneven remnants of the titan. Impossibly high snow drifts gathered in against its windward side, but it still seemed formidable for all that it was half-buried in snow. The ice enshrouding the Imperial rubble was the only thing holding the aging machine upright.

Rey stepped up onto the control panel, careful of the ice-slicked surface, until she stood in what had once been the viewport. She reached out, bracing herself against the ruined carapace so that the howling wind ravaging the ice world couldn't pluck her out of her perch. Stomach lurching at the thought of a deadly fall, she tightened her grip on a makeshift handhold. Hoarfrost burned where she made contact with the AT-AT, painfully numbing her hands and feet. The small areas of exposed skin of her face were long-since numbed by the cold.

Perhaps coming here was foolish, but the view was astounding.

She looked downrange, across the frozen fields toward what had once been Echo Base. Harsh sunlight glittered off of the wide expanse of snow as though the planet were made of crystal. Far off on the horizon, dark clouds gathered, perhaps a blizzard blowing in.

Fast.

I won't abandon you. A voice seemed to ride before that fierce wind, echoing across the vast glacier. Come to me on Hoth. The words struck her and rebounded, fiercely doubling back upon themselves to call, Come to me.

She shivered as the gentle, intimate whisper of Ren's voice filled her mind. It so occupied her thoughts that she nearly failed to notice the stormwall doubling, expanding in the once-blue sky to block out the sun. Rey huffed out a worried breath and eased down out of the AT-AT, climbing as quickly as she dared toward the ground. It surprised her, when she slipped and skidded sideways off of the gray relic to fall toward the permafrost of its shadow—

She gasped, wrenching herself upright in the pilot's seat where she'd been dozing, lulled by the whirl of hyperspace and the deep silence permeating Master Skywalker's small ship. She hissed a breath through her teeth, smothering an idle curse as she slowly shifted in her chair to stretch the pins-and-needles from her limbs.

Yet again, a variation of the dream that she'd experienced nightly for months. Meditations couldn't suppress it; when she was awake, she hardly remembered it. But when she slept, it emerged like a sapling that had rooted into her brain and refused to wither.

"Dammit, Ren, get out of my head," she muttered, but the curse held no real heat. Already memory of the dream was fading, leaving behind only the insistent echo of Kylo Ren's voice: Come to me.

Planting the thought in her mind had been a clever way to arrange a rendezvous without letting the Resistance in on the secret, she had to give him that. Had he meant to shove it into her subconscious, leaving it to worm its way out over time, or had her own mental barriers quarantined it there? Either way, every reconnaissance probe had confirmed: the First Order had been based in the Hoth system, but they'd left immediately before their attack on Sumarin and had not returned.

Despite the dream's insistence, she had no idea where to find Ren now.

A warning indicator chimed, its repetitive low loop slowly drawing Rey's mind away from Ren. Silently, she chastised herself for giving in to the flood of emotion that always came with thinking of him. Calming her betraying feelings into a background hum in her mind, she reached across the aged freighter's control panel and pressed a button to open the comm channel.

"Master, excuse me," Rey said into the comm, voice grating with the husk of sleep. "We'll come out of hyperspace in a few minutes."

She'd barely finished speaking when the cockpit door slid open, and Master Skywalker eased into the co-pilot's seat. He truly was a pilot at heart, Rey noted with a slight smile as she watched him quickly scan the cockpit displays to size up the ship's status. His blue eyes, when he looked at her, lacked any trace of weariness.

"I want to talk to you about something."

Rey nearly let her eyes widen in surprise, but managed to keep her face relaxed even as her pulse quickened. Her broiling, intimate thoughts of Ren always made Rey feel on edge—what if someone realized it, demanded her to explain? They'd damn her for it, she knew.

"It's about your training," Master Skywalker continued, but the words didn't soothe her.

"Have I disappointed you in some way?"

"Nothing like that." He chucked. "I didn't mean to worry you. No, I've been dwelling on the past. I used to think that isolation was the proper way to train apprentices," he mused, crossing his arms. "Probably because that's how I was trained. I was a little older than you are now when I was sent to meet Yoda. He lived like a hermit, though I suppose he deserved to, after surviving the fall of the Jedi."

His voice had gone grim, and Rey chewed her lower lip, uncertain if he was simply thinking aloud, or if he wanted her to reply. After a moment, she offered, "I've watched all of the holovids and read everything you've given me about the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Coruscant was the political center of the galaxy. It seems like their training was the exact opposite of isolated."

"True. The Jedi were—are—the custodians of peace and justice. Perhaps removing them from the full spectrum of life detaches the Jedi from the very thing they were meant to serve. Distorts their purpose. I've wondered if this was the foundation of my failure with Ben. Be honest," her Master continued, oblivious to Rey's shock that he could speak of his past failure so openly. "What did you think about these last few weeks, the intense training away from the Resistance?"

Rey drew in a long breath, considering. "I think… it was good for me. The focused time helped to center my mind." Rey hesitated, knowing this might be her only opportunity to truly shape the foundation of her own training. Ren's fears that Master Skywalker would repeat all his old mistakes while training her encouraged her to plunge boldly onward. "I care about the Resistance. I want to help it succeed. And I found myself becoming impatient with my absence from it. I've spent my whole life waiting. I don't want to live like that again."

He nodded, a little absently. "The Force has felt… strained, since the destruction of Hosnian Prime. It's not just the extreme number of deaths, it's… a darkness, the phantom energy the First Order harnessed into destructive power. Quintessence." His brooding voice was so quiet that Rey had to strain to hear him. "There will be another weapon, perhaps something different, but just as formidable. Have you sensed this in your visions?"

She shook her head, unable to speak. Attempting to quell her fears felt presumptions. A dark voice whispered in her mind: Who did she think she was to imagine that she could prevent the formation of another weapon as terrible as the Starkiller? She was no one. She was right to fear.

But that's not true, a stronger part of herself answered back. She could do something worthwhile—with the Force, she possessed the potential to leave her mark on the galaxy. It was the risk of using that potential for evil that was truly terrifying. If she made a misstep, she could become more deadly dangerous than any weapon the First Order could build.

She had never before realized the amount of trust Master Skywalker had shown in her to agree to train her. There was so much to risk, when he had already stumbled in the past. It make her feel very small, as though the weight of Master Skywalker's expectations had draped themselves around her shoulders, crushing her inwards.

As though Master Skywalker could sense the thread of her racing thoughts, he said, "It feels right for us to return. I believe your training will benefit from full knowledge and understanding of the backdrop of the galaxy you will be serving. As a diplomat, as a guardian, or even as a warrior. To restore peace where you can. To counter the Dark Side where you can."

Rey shivered, her skin pricking with a mixture of excitement and dread. She swallowed a lump from her throat. "I won't fail you, Master."

"I said something very like that to my Masters, once," he said, with a slight smile that might have held amusement or sadness, she couldn't tell.

A silence heavy with solidarity fell between them. After a moment, the navcomputer alarm trilled again. Rey pushed up the hyperdrive controls, easing the ship into realspace in the tortured upper atmosphere of a sun-blasted planet.

The barren planet was covered not with sand, but with lava and char. It orbited perilously close to its sun, so close that its surface parched by day. At night the hot air was slightly more tolerable, and the heat currents weakened enough to make landing possible. The ever-shifting winds flung up dirt that twisted into massive, deadly cyclones which spewed debris into their flight path. Ash choked out the starlight as they descended.

Master Skywalker didn't speak to her as she piloted through the tricky wind sheers before dipping the ship into specific, constructed cracks in the planet's surface. Maneuvering the ship through the dizzying flight pattern in the web of crevices still took her full concentration.

The Resistance's new home was a desolate place, harboring no other life but their own. Whatever civilization had sprung up from the fire and then dug down into bare rock to survive… had not lingered long. It left behind only its ruins to house the desperate.

Underground, Rey killed the engines, letting the repulsorlifts keep them airborne as she waited for permission to land. Red floodlights illuminated the expansive cavern that had been retrofitted as a hangar. Resistance ships waited in rows beneath a natural shelf, fueled and ready for take-off. The usual groups of mechanics and pilots clustered around their respective ships, while still other Resistance personnel headed toward the spiraling ramps that would bring them down into the habituated levels. Deep enough that no aerial attack could reach them. Though the world was new to them, Rey felt very much like she was coming home.

Poe Dameron ducked out from under one of the S-foils of the nearest X-wing, using his hands to pantomime the fluid movements of two different ships, one tailing the other. Talking with his hands, Rey thought fondly, as pilots did when they were talking about flying. Finn followed Poe around the side of the ship, listening to the pilot with rapt attention. As Rey received docking permission and eased the ship down into a gentle landing, Poe spotted her.

Finn turned at Poe's gesture, and his eyes traced the ship until he found the cockpit. As his eyes met hers, Finn smiled. She read his lips as he joyfully yelled out a greeting. Then he lifted his arm and waved.

The simple motion astounded her. It was evidence of how far he had progressed in his rehabilitation in the few weeks she'd been gone. He performed his physical therapy with near obsession, deadest on not only recovering from his wounds, but surpassing is original level of physical fitness. Now, he was not only up and walking, but using his arm, his fingers. He even carried a blaster at his belt. At a quick glance, it would be impossible to know how very close to death he had come.

As she waved back at him, she felt herself truly smile for the first time since Sumarin.

Master Skywalker rose and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Take some time to rest. Enjoy your friends. Tomorrow, we will continue to drill, focusing especially on your mental aptitudes: blocking invasion, creating and countering physical manifestations of the Force. There still is much for you to learn." He gave her shoulder a squeeze to soften the critique of her abilities. "You've done well these past few weeks."

"Thank you, Master."

"But beware the lure of the Dark side. There will be temptations, especially as you grow stronger. Snoke will lay traps for you. You must overcome them."

He left her to power down the ship, the sober warning ringing in her ears. A reminder of her own potential to fail. I won't, she thought so fiercely that she jabbed at the controls as she ran down the post-flight checklist.

"I won't fail you," she said again, and hearing the words made her feel more confident. It was clear that Master Skywalker was concerned that she still had a hole in her mental defenses, one that Ren or Snoke might be able to penetrate.

The truth was, she wasn't sure how to defend her own hopes and her own heart against Ren. She tried to empty her mind, focused on her breathing. She reached out for the Force and felt it flow through her. The arc of light visualized before her eyes, that twisting rope of fire that seemed to tether her to—

Something tugged at her mind. And she saw him.

Kylo Ren wore his mask.

He walked slowly through murky, knee-high water, his dark cloak fanning out behind him on the rippling current as his boots churned up algae and silt from beneath it. He rested a hand on the hilt of a weapon at his belt, paused a moment to let one of his companions overtake him. The few others with him shifted like shadows, like the suggestion of a corporeal body, but Rey was blind to their detail; she sensed only danger from them. Behind Ren, enormous stone spires speared high into the brilliance of a blood red sunset, the fleet of half-completed ships anchored upon them casting shadows down into the swamp. Ren moved through one of those shadows, intent on the naval yard's command center that was just coming into view.

No amount of protection that would be able to stop the Knights of Ren from penetrating the naval yard, Rey knew with certainty. The dozen valuable, half-completed ships would be captured by the First Order.

Don't. She whispered the plea through a clenched throat, but she spoke only to her empty cockpit as Ren's small troupe eased from the swamp onto dry ground, making themselves ready to infiltrate the compound. Rey watched as Ren signaled, a silent instruction to set up the detonators where they had planned. She sensed his confidence; the Force was with him, and in the command vacuum created by Hosnian Prime's destruction, the defenses here had fallen into disarray.

He waited as the others went ahead; Rey wasn't sure why, could see no reason for the delay. And then he turned his head, slightly, as he became aware of her. Like she'd fitted a key into a long-forgotten lock, his emotions were laid bare.

Rey. Shock and pride and desire tumbled over themselves. Her name became both a greeting and a parting as he turned to look back at his companions, noting that they had completed their preparations. Ren crouched down, anticipating the inevitable blast. Regret and determination twined together as he thought, You shouldn't be here.

And as the timed detonators exploded, he pushed her out of his mind. So easily, she thought, that she could have imagined it all.

But the rhythm her dancing heart was drumming onto her ribcage told her that she hadn't imagined a thing. She still felt his visceral response to her, his longing, made all the stronger because her own body echoed them in response. She wrestled with herself, surprised at the strength of the emotions that both time and distance hadn't tamed. But she was here, sitting in Master Skywalker's ship, for a reason.

"You can do this," she told herself through gritted teeth. She blinked the tears from her eyes, and pushed herself roughly from the pilot's seat. Straightening her shoulders, she walked determinedly down the ship's gangplank, into the heart of the Resistance.

Somewhere among the stars, lightyears away from the sun-blasted planet, Kylo Ren eased off his helmet, setting it on a computer terminal of the naval yard that he and his Knights now controlled. They'd taken it within minutes, too quickly for the yard to raise an alarm or to mount a defense. There hadn't been a drop of blood spilled. Efficient, orderly, ruthlessly effective. That was what he demanded of his Knights, and today they had performed admirably.

He brushed his hair back from his eyes, and narrowed them against the brilliance of the sunset as he studied the various gunships that the First Order could soon add to its armada. He smiled, allowing himself to bask in a moment of victory. And remembered the warm comfort of the mental touch that had been with him during the operation—

"Master Ren."

His smile faded. A fleeting memory, and only that. Couldn't be more than that. He felt cold as he concealed himself once again behind his mask, and turned back toward his duty.

x.x.x

Chapter Text

Chapter Ten: Invitation

Behind his mask, Kylo Ren snarled a smile that no one could see.

So many had come.

At a glance, the starships could have been stars. Void of the chaos of nature, their steadily pulsating lights moved with precision, sometimes slipping out of sight as the myriad ships approached the lonely planet. It was a delicate dance, pressing for precedence while trying to remain a cautious distance from the others-some allies, some enemies, some undeclared.

But they had come, a mere two years after the destruction of Hosnian Prime and the New Republic, to begin to build a new government in earnest. A government that would include a legitimized First Order. A government that would—eventually—be controlled by Leader Snoke.

And Skywalker would be on that planet to oversee the talks, if he wasn't already. Ren's Master had foreseen it.

"Are we on schedule?" Hux asked, his voice calm despite the anticipation radiating from him. Ren glanced askance at the General, whose eyes gleamed as he surveyed the single metroplex of the planet below. Night edged toward this hemisphere, the lights of the capitol blazing within a swath of uninhabited darkness. Remote in the far southern reaches of the main continent, the illumination of the single city, their destination, shone like a beacon for the approaching ships.

A waiting technician checked a display screen before replying in the affirmative.

"Good. I'll meet you at the rendezvous point." Hux backed from the viewport, scrutinizing Ren's uniform in a sweeping, disapproving glance that Ren didn't acknowledge. "Remember that the goal here is not overt intimidation, Commander."

"You do your part, General, and I'll do mine."

Hux sniffed and whirled away, his heels clipping smartly on the polished floor as he headed toward his awaiting transport frigate, the technician dogging his steps.

Ren checked himself as the Force rippled around him, and smothered the sense that was him from the perception of others. General Organa would be there, in the designated meeting place, ready to throw her diplomatic will against the rest of them. Resistance ragtag would no doubt accompany her. And perhaps even—

"Take off that mask."

Ren spun, his dark cloak whirling at the movement. Though he was alone, the observation deck silent and dark around him, the voice echoed in his mind.

"Take off that mask," it insisted, confident and serene. "You don't need it."

Kenobi. But Skywaker wasn't here, now, to play these mind games. A blue light flickered in the corridor beyond and Ren stalked toward the haloed figure he knew he'd find there—but the corridor, too, was empty.

"The Force flows strong within you. Feel it. Trust its guidance." At the voice's urging, Ren's hands lifted toward the seal of his helmet. With a hiss, the servomotors disengaged. He had the helmet pulled halfway from his head before he realized what he was doing. Silently cursing Kenobi's tricks, Ren jammed the helmet back into position. He drew in a long breath, the tang of the helmet's filtered air sharp on his tongue. When he looked back up, the blue-auraed specter of Kenboi stood behind him, his reflection sober.

"Go to that planet not as a warrior, but as a diplomat. Just as your mother is, and her mother before her. That is your legacy," Kenobi said, more somber than Ren had ever heard him. "Choose—"

Whatever Kenobi wanted Ren to choose, he didn't hear. Ren spun, one fluid motion igniting his lightsaber and bringing down into a deadly arc. Its brilliant blue blade dashed apart that of the aura, splintering blinding shards of light like fractals throughout the room. His even breathing did not betray his racing heart, the doubt rising within him like a tide threatening to drown him. He tried to smother the light ripping at him, calling him, before it tore him apart.

He had to be impenetrable.

Face the truth. Trust the Force. It wasn't Ren's voice repeating the mantra. But when his vision cleared, Kenobi was gone.

The transparent-steel chamber dwarfed the dozens of diplomats meeting within it, engulfing them like bubble of air frozen into a fortress. Fountains trickled down the curve of its walls, the waterfalls' spray partly obscuring the wild plains surrounding the delicate structure. Ringed railings encircled the higher levels of the sphere, creating open air meeting spaces between the waterfalls. Arched bridges spanned the railings like indestructible webs, intersecting once per level to form balconies suspended over the forested floor below.

The various security details perched on those balconies eyed one another as furtively as they eyed the rival diplomats as Rey stepped behind the curtain of one of the waterfalls to watch the vicious wind batter at the plains beyond. Two blade-like shuttles skimmed the grasses, cutting neatly through the air currents as they rose to intercept what should be the last delegation to the peace talks: The First Order.

Rey tracked the shuttle as it landed within a side-bubble hangar so far around the building's curve that she had to strain to see it. After a moment, a formation of stormtroopers marched down the gangplank, flanking a tall, red-haired man.

General Hux.

Rey blew out a breath, mentally chiding herself for growing tense. Of course it would be Hux, and not—and not—

"Rey."

She resisted touching a finger to the earpiece hidden in her right ear, and keyed the thumb switch to open the comm. She spoke naturally, the small piece of synthetic flesh adhered to the skin of her neck translating the vibrations of her throat into sound. "Yes?"

"The meeting just adjourned," Finn said, and she could hear him smiling, wherever it was he was hidden to spy on the proceedings, protecting those who truly came in peace.

"Right. Of course. Thanks." Rey slipped down the nearest winding staircase, stepping out into the jungle of the building's floor. Surrounded by a cluster of security detail, General Organa lagged behind in the meeting room, flipping through data on her holopad. Its bright screen deepened the lines of her face and highlighted the gray tendrils of hair swept up into a fierce braid atop her head.

"Be advised," Rey said into her comm, "that the First Order just landed."

Rey would have bet all her credits that Finn reached down to check his blaster as he replied, "Copy that."

Why the First Order had been trusted with an invitation, Rey couldn't imagine. She switched off the mic of her comm and sighed as she turned to follow the General's retinue to the next in a seemingly endless stream of meetings. The General offered Rey a wan smile as she fell in with the rest of the security detail.

"General, the First Order—"

Leia Organa held up a hand. "I know. I heard."

"I don't sense… anything out of the ordinary." Him, she'd almost said. Ren. Tendrils of relief crept out from the General's usual reserve; clearly, she dreaded a public reunion with her estranged son. And damn her, Rey was glad that Leia wasn't trained enough in the Force to sense Rey's own conflicted disappointment that Ren wouldn't be there.

"I have a bad feeling about this," the General murmured dryly, then drew up her shoulders and spoke to the aide at her side. "Let's go."

~.~

What had been the day's meeting hall transformed, by night, into an oasis.

The banquet tables hovered over tiles of white marble interspersed with bioluminescent pebbles that challenged the very starlight with their pearly glow. The jungle foliage pressed closed to the edge of the marble pavilion, lit from within by vibrant violet lichen clinging to the tree trunks. Above, fireflies—Rey wasn't sure if they were real, or cleverly-designed illumination droids—flitted over the long tables and into the leaves of the trees, rising to mingle with the spray from the waterfalls.

And beyond shone countless stars, wheeling in unknown constellations above the expansive plain that Rey wished she had the freedom to explore.

Instead, she folded her hands into the brown robe that declared her as a Jedi Apprentice. Each delegation had been allowed to send three representatives to the banquet, and General Organa had asked Rey to accompany herself and Major Brance—as more of a token, she suspected, than as an actual player in the diplomatic game. While the others networked and plotted, Rey hung back in the shadows, watching, her senses sweeping outward for hints of betrayal or danger.

She felt the subtle shifting in the Force a moment before the wide double-doors to the hall drew open.

Icy determination washed into the room as General Hux swept into it, his two First Order companions equally tall and imperious as they dogged his step. The blue-skinned Chiss at the place of honor on Hux's right flank strode straight-backed into the room, impervious to the curious eyes watching him as fiercely as he scrutinized them. Perhaps the presence of one of the rare Chiss was meant to astound the other diplomats, and indeed they eyed his gray military uniform with open curiosity, its lapels weighted with the ornaments of the Chiss' achievements. Rey must have been the only one who watched as Hux's second companion paused on the threshold to scan the crowd.

The black First Order uniform accentuated his lean prowess, made him appear even more the predator as he stalked the periphery of the room. With his dark hair combed back from his face, the scar slanting across his face proclaimed his identify—as though Rey could ever doubt who this man was. Her chest tightened, gripped suddenly by that binding of light and fire inexplicably lashing them together.

Lacking his iconic armor and helmet, with all hint of his presence in the Force tucked away, even General Organa didn't spare the black-clad man a second look as Hux weaved his way through the center of the room.

All by design.

Rey triggered her comm. "Kylo Ren is accompanying Hux and the Chiss ambassador to the banquet. Intercepting him."

The various comm channels Rey was keyed into exploded with rapid-fire chatter, but Rey listened with the barest concentration as Ren strode toward her. At the table before her, Major Brance straightened, then leaned in to whisper something to General Organa. She stiffened, laying her hands flat on the tabletop, but was far too self-possessed to look back at Ren. Whispers rose like the rustling of the trees surrounding them as the other diplomats slowly realized that the legendary Kylo Ren walked among them.

Rey didn't doubt that Ren sensed her; though he studied everyone else in the room, he marched straight toward her. She tightened the shields around her heart and mind, automatically beginning the breathing exercises for calm. Clasping her hands behind her back, she stepped forward onto the glowing path ringing the room, blocking his path as she turned toward him.

"Commander Ren," she said, her voice too sharp to be considered diplomatic. "I'm not sure if anonymity suits you."

"What anonymity, Rey?" He paused, shoulders loose and relaxed as he crossed his arms, looking for all the galaxy as though he was bored, as though he couldn't sense the curiosity and the stinging gaze of almost every person in the room trained on them. He cocked an eyebrow at her. "I'm not here to hide."

It had been two years. Two years without a breach, without a mental slip. Two years of rumors of his misdeeds aiding Snoke, of being one step behind him—or one step ahead—while the Resistance and the First Order circled around one another. She should have been numb to him by now.

And yet the fire burning in those dark eyes seared straight through every shield, conjuring memory and such an undeniable heat in the marrow of her soul that she gasped as the want clutched her.

"So that's the point," she said, talking simply to try to buy herself time to regain her composure. "Your presence is supposed to goad us. You want someone to slip up, to try something foolish—to ruin any chance of peaceful compromise."

"Careful," he challenged with the shadow of a grin, and Rey knew he wasn't speaking of diplomacy nor of the ages-long fight waged between the Light side of the Force, and the Dark. "I'm sure they're wondering just how long you and I can behave ourselves. Unfounded accusations won't bode well for either of us, and the whole galaxy is watching."

There was something of a warning hidden among the political draperies, but Rey had no patience for it. Two years, and this was how it had to be between them?

She raised her chin, keenly aware of the Resistance listening in on the conversation through her comm, of the security personnel edging closer, of the faltering small talk between the diplomats—even Hux watched them now. She took a step closer to Ren without really realizing it. Her hand slid around to her waist to grip her lightsaber as though it was safer to threaten him with its blade than threaten herself by touching him.

His eyes dipped down, noting her reach. "Careful," he said again, before stepping back. And then, after inclining his head at her in a salute that lacked any hint of mockery, he walked away.

A voice penetrated the turmoil in her mind. "What," asked Finn, keying in on a private channel, "was that?"

Skywalker hadn't come.

Ren thumbed off his lightsaber and forced himself to stop pacing. The long, complicated sequence of blade drills and acrobatics hadn't burned off his irritation, but as he knelt on the lush carpets of the room he had been assigned and stared out into the fringes of the plains, what little he could see of the shifting wind patterns slicing through the waving grass calmed his mind.

Skywalker hadn't come. But Rey had. And in a way, she'd been right: Hux did want Ren here as a lure, his presence designed to flaunt his escape from the Resistance and throw them off their stride.

He'd feared that by now, Rey's Jedi training would have obliterated any remnant of her feeling for him—that it hadn't only made controlling his own feelings harder. He squared his shoulders, fighting against the sudden weight of expectation bowing him over. Her expectations, her judgements, her safety. They haunted him, as did memories of her touch, her bright eyes, her dogged grin. Deadly, damning testaments of what he could never admit, and could never forget. Rey.

He closed his eyes, his mind inevitably conjuring memories that had his blood racing again. He'd sensed her presence from the moment he disembarked his shuttle—but seeing her had nearly undone all his mental preparations. Dressed in the brown robes of a Jedi, she'd grown more slender and strong throughout her training, and looked at him with the same intimate, utter defiance as always—except now, he knew what she tasted like. He knew how she felt with her legs wrapped around his waist, kissing him with desperation as she melded with him—

Ren groaned and stood again, beginning another round of calisthenics that should long have dashed his vibrant fantasies into the pallor of exhaustion. He panted as he levered himself down to balance on one hand, his body already flushed and primed from his drills. A traitorous, hot jet of desire injected into his bloodstream, and his cock twitched and grew so hard it ached. He ached, remembering the jolt of lust and longing that had risen from her as she reached not for him, but instead for her lightsaber, as though that could help her fight off something she couldn't control, and all he'd wanted to do was lift her into his arms and pin her against the nearest tree trunk.

He blew out a slow breath, trying to control his breathing. He would defeat this.

The door chimed and Ren swore, then carefully shifted his weight so that be balanced on his left hand, leaving his right free for his lightsaber if needed.

"Yes?"

"Sorry to disturb you, Commander," said the trooper leading the security detail, her voice muffled through her helmet and stifled by the door between them.

"Enter, Captain."

Ren gathered himself and flipped to his feet, summoning a towel as the door to his chamber opened into the ceiling. The trooper waited as he ran the towel through his damp hair, then pulled on a robe to cover his bare torso. "Report."

The Captain stepped forward, letting the door slide shut behind her. "You asked to be informed if the Jedi moved outside of the boundary designated to the Resistance delegation." She held out a data pad, the silver carapace of her rank flashing in his room's low light. "She did, but we've got her under surveillance. Do you want us to—"

"No," Ren said, tugging the data pad from her grip with the Force. Of course Rey had left the security of the Resistance quarters; she was far too headstrong to let herself be corralled. If Hux learned of it, she was on a straight course to getting herself killed or captured. Hot disbelief at her recklessness dripped down his neck before freezing into an icy, barely-suppressed rage in the pit of his stomach.

He turned the data pad over in trembling fingers, then clipped it to his belt next to his lightsaber. "Leave the Jedi to me."

Rey shouldn't have been there.

The public meeting places were strictly off limits during the nighttime hours. But the sweeping droids had come and gone, ridding the great hollow space of any illicit surveillance devices, and none had tried to dislodge her from her perch.

She sat cross-legged on the tallest of the suspended bridges, almost at the apex of the round ceiling, sorting through her thoughts and trying to banish all emotion as she waited patiently for the unobstructed spectacle of dawn rising over the plains.

Ren found her before the dawn did.

When he queried her through the Force, it was gentle enough that she could have ignored it. She should have ignored it, taken that brush against her mind and quelled it with the rest of the roiling emotions she was systematically attempting to untangle and obliterate. Instead she'd glanced down, and there among the shadows gathering around the wall of the room, he stood watching her.

And everything she'd been meditating for hours to suppress came rushing back to her.

Dressed in an understated black jumpsuit devoid of any First Order insignia, he appeared almost too formal wearing polished black gloves and boots, together with his enveloping black cloak. A lightsaber—the lightsaber she had lost on Sumarin—hung in plain view at his belt. Looking up at her, his face was briefly illuminated by the purple glow of the lichen clinging to the surrounding tree trunks before he took a step back into the darkness.

But he didn't leave; she still felt the barest glimmer of him through the Force as he stood hidden somewhere in the decorative forest below. That hint of his presence beckoned to her despite its silence, and she gracefully dropped down to the lower levels to stalk the bridges skimming the treetops.

He ducked into a side corridor and she leapt down to the ground floor, one hand on the hilt of her lightsaber as she followed him.

Snoke will lay traps for you, Rey. Master Skywalker's old warning made the hair on the back of Rey's neck rise. But how could Snoke try to tempt her with Ren, when no one knew the truth of her feelings for him?

Besides, it was impossible to run away from whatever this was between them. She'd tried two years ago, and failed, and she was too proud to let cowardice rule her now.

The corridor was empty except for him. A door hissed open further along the curve of the base of the building. Rey slunk along the wall, confidence faltering as she headed deeper into the compound. Something whirred and hummed behind the wall panels, liquid shifting as she neared the control station for the exquisite indoor oasis. She drew in a sharp breath, and ducked across the threshold.

The door closed behind her as she entered the darkened space. A viewport comprising the far wall overlooked the peaceful center of the room, cleverly concealed behind the rocks at the base of the largest waterfall. Control panels situated beneath the viewport blinked peacefully, monitoring the biometrics of the oasis meeting chamber beyond.

Ren stood on a dais before another viewport that projected the series of fully-occupied landing pads guarded by the diplomatic corps. A red shred of dawn glimmered between two of the landing pads, spearing through the night like a splinter of blaster fire as Ren turned to face her.

"I wasn't sure if you'd come," he said, taking a single step down the dais toward her before hesitating. He splayed his empty hands in what could have been a gesture meant to soothe her—or just to show that he held no weapons, she wasn't sure.

"Yet here I am," Rey said with a mild shrug, resisting the urge to cross the room to him. It was hard to interpret the tightly coiled emotion lifting from him like an aura of heat, but simply being so near that heat started her heart racing. Though she kept her feet planted, she slowly let her hand fall away from the hilt of her lightsaber.

As though he'd been waiting for that signal, Ren relaxed. "I'd intended to berate you for coming out of the Resistance barracks. Surely you know you're under surveillance—or were, before I commanded them to leave it to me. My Master awaits in orbit, and he still wants you."

"If I'm under surveillance, why take the risk to warn me like this?"

He smiled, slightly. "Compared to the other compromises I've made to try to help you—"

"I haven't asked you to do anything of the kind. I don't want to be in your debt."

"I know."

"And—you made your own choice, two years ago. You could have come back with me." She flung the last at him like some sort of weapon, but he hardly seemed to hear it; he was already pouncing with a response.

"I did choose—just like you chose to follow me down here. Why take the risk in trusting me?"

"Because I know you wouldn't harm me." Panic welled in her gut, and suddenly she wasn't a Jedi's Apprentice; she was nothing more than a confused young woman, his words pushing her to retrace her steps through every mental shield she had erected over the past two years. Those shields faltered now, exposing the truth: she missed him. She missed him, and still wanted him, and that was why she had followed him down here despite all risk and reason. She ratcheted down those truths, binding them up into the tightest shield she could muster. He couldn't know what hold he still had on her—

But he nodded to himself. Still rooted to the dais steps, he held out a hand, and the lightest brush of air touched her cheek—an invitation and a question. Rey's mouth went dry. Chills chased themselves up and down her spine, burning hot into desire as they settled over her skin.

Rey stared at him for the merest heartbeat before flinging herself toward him. He caught her, his sturdy frame stolid against the desperate embrace. His gloved hands spread along her back, her neck, drawing her against him as Rey lifted her mouth to his in a bruising kiss.

Fevered heat rushed through Rey at his taste. She clutched him closer as suddenly all she could hear was her heartbeat roaring in her ears and their shared, frantic breathing. His arms tightened around her a moment before he scooped her up and pinned her against the wall, capturing her wrists in one hand to brace them above her head as he stepped into her. She arched her back, thrusting her hips into his as his weight settled against hers.

Metal clinked and grated as the hilts of their lightsabers scuffed off one another. Rey stilled, pulling back from their kiss, and as though she had control over his own reactions, Ren froze as well. She took his face in her hands, letting her fingertips run through the curl of his hair, refusing to let either of them look down toward the weapons that—in time—they might be forced to wield against one another.

"Rey?" Breathing hard, Ren rested his forehead against hers to catch her eyes with his. He ground his hips against hers, pressing her more firmly back against the wall, the pressure points of his body finding hers with a precision that sent a jolt of pleasure up her spine.

Rey never had any doubt that they'd still fit together, even after all this time. "I missed—" she sucked in a breath as he kissed up her neck, his mouth and tongue lingering at the sensitive skin behind her ear lobe. "I missed the way you make me… feel."

Breathing a laugh into her ear, he trailed teasing fingers lightly down over the mound at the junction of her thighs. She shivered as his fingertips found that single spot that could force her to shatter over him if he did… exactly what he was doing. She moaned into his mouth, her legs slackening under her—until suddenly they were moving again, Rey pushing Ren down into a chair so she could claim every inch of him.

~.~

"When are you expected back at your quarters?" Ren asked later, as they both dressed in the darkness of the command room. On the monitor overlooking the landing pads, the sun stood fully above the horizon, its light glittering red across the tops of the grass stems as though their seedpods held jewels. Such peace, Rey reflected, was always too short-lived.

"Soon," she said, turning away from him as she settled her lightsaber on her belt. She'd intentionally designed it so that its blade was not the blue nor green of the lightsabers from the awful vision where she saw herself locked into a duel with Ren. It was a vain, foolish hope, to try changing some aspect of the vision to prevent it from happening, when she'd already lived it once.

As though he could sense the current of her thoughts, he said, "Do you still intend to follow Skywalker and become a Jedi?"

She straightened her shoulders, adjusting the brown Apprentice robes before turning to face him. He must have found the answer in the determined set of her chin, because he smiled, sadly, as he pulled on his dark gloves.

"Stubborn."

"There are worse things in the galaxy." But it was hard to sound unaffected as her stomach roiled, and she suddenly had no ability to stop the tears rolling down her cheeks. She pressed her face against his chest, stealing one last moment of comfort before having to find the courage to walk out of the chamber.

"The Force will be with you, Rey." He stroked the loose strands of her hair and she shivered, closing her eyes against the swelling emotions as he added, "As will my thoughts."

Light blossomed on the viewport behind them, so bright she saw it through her eyelids, a moment before an explosion rocked the building. Rey blinked, leaning in to stare at the billowing smoke now engulfing the middle tier of the landing pads. Before she could even focus on which ships had exploded, and why, the door whisked open.

Ren shoved her behind him, sending her stumbling toward the small maintenance hatch connecting the room to the oasis. She pulled her lightsaber from her belt as she spun toward whatever danger Ren had sensed, but didn't ignite its double-edged hilt—not yet.

Hux stood framed in the open doorway, a blaster pistol trained on the center of Rey's chest. His blue eyes glittered as he snarled a smile.

"So it's true," he said, the pistol whining as its safety disengaged. "I couldn't believe it, even with the proof. You're a worse traitor than I thought, Ren. But you do make very good bait."

"Hux," Ren began, his choked whisper betraying the rage building in the room, cloying Rey's senses as though she had been doused in his anger. Hux shook his head, silencing Ren with a sharp jerk of his chin.

He edged deeper into the room, displaying more bravery than Rey would have liked to credit him with. Rey backed toward the maintenance hatch, giving herself more space to shift into a defensive stance to ignite her lightsaber. She couldn't attack Hux—and ruin everything this summit hoped to build—but she would defend herself.

"My troopers will be here any moment. If one single shred of loyalty for Leader Snoke remains in you, Ren—if your oaths mean anything at all—you will stand there, quietly, while I take her into custody."

Before Ren could snarl a response, the muzzle of a blaster rifle pressed into Hux's back. Finn barked a bitter laugh. "I don't think so."

Hux glanced over his shoulder, apparently unconcerned at being held at blaster point. His pistol never wavered from Rey as white lights flickered on the viewport, and a dozen Star Destroyers appeared from hyperspace to ring the planet.

"That'll be my armada," Hux said, and smiled.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eleven: Frisson

Emotion swirled around Rey, each as capable of drowning her as every grain of sand within the Sinking Fields. The planet warmed with panic as the Star Destroyers hung poised to strike, TIE fighters spilling from their hangar bays. Within that panic rose individual thrills of determination and triumph and fear as those taken by surprise rallied against the betrayal of the First Order.

Rey pressed the emotion to a small corner of her mind, focusing instead on the red-haired General still holding the pistol aimed at her own heart. Calm was hard to find at this end of a blaster barrel. She drew in a breath.

"Hux," Rey said with all the serenity should could muster as she hooked her lightsaber to her belt. She stepped forward, gesturing for Hux to lower the weapon as she reached out to him with the Force. "Put the blaster down."

His will was as strong as ferrocrete, yet his hand wavered, his blue eyes shuttering for half a moment as Rey's thoughts touched him. It was enough. Hux blinked as the weapon slipped from his hand, his eyebrows lifting in confusion before he glared at her.

Hux tisked in disapproval. "The first time we meet face-to-face, and you're resorting to tricks already, Jedi?"

"I'll do what I must to prevent you from ruining everything these accords are trying to build."

Finn kicked the weapon away, and snarled a smile as he sighted Hux down his rifle. "Hands on your head. Get down on your knees."

"Don't think I don't know who you are," Hux said mildly. "FN-2187."

"My name is Finn. Get on your knees." He jerked his chin toward Ren. "You too."

"Don't try my patience," Ren hissed. He jabbed a finger toward Finn. "There's only one thing keeping me from killing you, traitor."

The two men glared at one another, and suddenly Rey was darting between the trees on Starkiller, snow blinding her as the sun itself was consumed and the world plunged into frigid darkness. Finn had nearly died after facing Ren then—every person in this room had narrowly escaped that night. The odds that they all would again—

"Finn," Rey said, refusing to give in to that dark craving for vengeance. "Bind him, but don't harm him. We need him to testify to his betrayal before the other diplomats."

"Is that what the Force tells you?" Hux sneered, glancing between Rey and Ren. Something in that that glance made Rey feel disconcertingly naked, as though all her emotions for Ren had been laid bare, as Hux slowly sank to his knees. He clasped his fingers behind his head. "With my ground forces and blockade, this is so much wasted effort."

"So was breaking a prisoner out of the Finalizer," Finn retorted. "No wait, I did that too, and then came back to help blow your Starkiller out of the sky."

Hux rolled his eyes, dismissing Finn's bravado. "When you turned traitor, we already had what we needed from Poe Dameron. We'd already broken him. But I will muster the entire might of the First Order against you," Hux said, fixing his eyes on Rey. "Every trooper, every ship, every weapon. And you will not escape."

Rey crouched down before Hux, draping her arms across her knees as she considered him. Ren's subtle warning brushed against her mind as he shifted like a shadow in the edge of her vision, resting his hand on his lightsaber. The Resistance considered Hux and Ren like the two hands carrying out Snoke's will, but there was clearly no trust between them.

Galaxies of darkness spiraled within Hux's blue eyes. Not only had this monster unleashed Starkiller, but he lamented its destruction. He wasn't satisfied with simply wiping out the inhabitants of an entire system—he wanted to grind the galaxy under his boot heel. Rey didn't need delve into his mind with the Force to know that he wanted the Resistance destroyed, Ren dead, and Rey in the hands of Leader Snoke. And if given his way, he would strike again and again and again until they were all ashes and dust.

"How many people have to die, Hux?" Rey asked softly, mentally recoiling from the hatred she sensed brewing under his stoic facade.

"As many as it takes."

Pressure built up in her stomach, surging upward until she nearly choked on the words she knew she must say, if only to stave off more destruction: "Then—then I'll surrender to you. If you call off your armada and your troops."

Hux grinned, hinting at the machinations of his brilliant, cunning mind. Ren reached for Rey, grabbing her shoulder to jerk her back against his chest as though that action could prevent Hux from accepting her surrender. Finn glanced up in horror, and in that moment, Hux struck. Deft fingers pulled a metallic cylinder from where he'd tucked it up his sleeve, and when he thumbed it on, Finn collapsed in a heap, his body heaving. His blaster fired as he fell, caustic light streaking out to destroy a wall of control panels.

"Finn!"

Acrid smoke filled the room. Gears ground within the floor. In the oasis, a segment of the floor slid away to reveal a drainage cistern. Water roared in the distance, surging closer. A klaxon blared as the output from the waterfalls doubled, water plunging to form a whirlpool as it surged into the cistern.

Rey hardly noticed; her attention was locked on Finn writhing on the floor. Behind him, the door slid open. A team of stormtroopers moved forward, ducking through the gray smoke choking the air.

"It's always wise to have a failsafe." Hux grinned and stood. Ren whirled toward Rey, pushing her away from the stormtroopers, through the maintenance hatch. The violence of reconstructed nature consumed the oasis behind them, the force of the deluge ripping up the forested plants to drag them into the whirlpool. Barely a span separated Rey's small foothold from the flood.

She reached, trying to wrest the control mechanism from Hux's hand, but he'd expected the trick. He arched a triumphant eyebrow at her as it remained fully in his grip—and then Ren was between them, blocking her view of the General and his swarming forces.

Mist clung to Ren's hair, catching the light as he bent toward her. "More are closing in, I can feel it."

"I won't leave Finn."

As though Ren's words had summoned them, stormtroopers lined the balconies on the far side of the dome. Rey closed her eyes, sensing the way the Force flowed around and through the troopers' lives: fifteen on the balconies, another four behind Hux and Finn. More were certainly on the way, and once they realized Ren wasn't in the process of capturing her, they'd open fire.

Finn screamed again as another spasm overtook him. Rey grimaced, the conflicting urges to fight and negotiate undermining her self-confidence; she didn't have enough time.

Behind and above her, someone called her name. She turned. The waterfalls' mist obscured the Resistance as they beckoned to her from the lower bridges. If they came any further, they'd position themselves right between the two First Order forces.

"Stop! It's a trap!" For me. It's a trap for me. Rey didn't give them a chance to fall into it with her. She Force-pushed at the supports of the highest bridges. They snapped with a bone-shrilling twang and collapsed, shattering the network of bridges spanning the room to cut off access between them.

Tears blurred her vision as she turned back toward Hux, resisting Ren's attempts to hold her back. Finn lay twitching on the ground behind him. "Hux! I told you, I'll surrender."

More troopers crowded through the doorway behind the General. "Like I'd believe Resistance rabble. At this point, it's hardly necessary. We'll take you regardless." He scoured Ren with a deliberating glare before tossing the failsafe control to him. "Take this. He's probably beyond help by now anyway. Neutralize her, and get her aboard the transport. The Supreme Leader is waiting."

The viewports cracked, turning all readouts to static as Ren turned on Hux. He flung out a hand and the closest trooper slammed into the wall, taking Hux down with him in a tangle of limbs. The blaster turret a trio of troopers were setting up in the doorway crumpled as Ren stepped forward. His blue lightsaber sizzled as he cut down the remaining troopers, ravaging them with both the Force and the blade. It was over in mere heartbeats; they didn't stand a chance against him.

Rey didn't waste the distraction. Struggling for calm, she grabbed Finn's arms and hauled him through the hatch. She crouched at his side, methodically moving through the steps of checking his flagging vital signs. Blood trickled from his nose, his muscles still jerking under the failsafe's influence. He wasn't breathing.

Rey's lightsaber came to life in her hands, each of its twin blades as scorching and brilliant as the Jakku sun. She launched herself at the corner of the room where Hux was struggling to his feet—

And Ren stepped between them, catching her wrist to block the deadly downward arc of her lightsaber before hooking an arm around her waist to fling her backward.

"Get out of my way, Ren!"

Ren's set his lips into a determined line as he shook his head. "I can't let you kill him."

His refusal staggered her. How he could so coldly dispatch the stormtroopers and then stand there protecting Hux, she couldn't understand. Nausea swirled in the pit of her stomach as she tightened her grip on the hilt of her lightsaber. "Kylo—"

"I have a duty, Rey!" His anguish struck her with such power that it pressed her back a step, but still he drew back his shoulders, refusing to buckle under it just as he refused to back down. She couldn't help but admire that strength, even as he wielded it against her will.

Hux tugged at his uniform as though regaining a presentable appearance could help him regain control over the situation. "That duty is clear. She attacked me with intent to kill. Terminate her."

Duty to the First Order and loyalty to Rey so clearly warred within Ren that he hesitated. Rey lunged again, attempting a flip above Ren's head to get between him and Hux. Ren brought his lightsaber up this time, deflecting her attack with a single powerful strike. She landed hard and fell back through the hatch, disengaging her lightsaber as she rolled to her feet on the rocky ledge. Ren stalked after her, thumbing off his lightsaber before clipping it to his belt.

"Go!" he said, yelling over the roar of the water filling the room. He glanced up at the Resistance forces arraying themselves along the ruined bridge, then quickly back at Rey. He gripped her upper arms and bent toward her to say, "The Resistance has an out. Take it. I'll deal with Hux. Please, Rey."

She wanted to argue, but as the second contingent of First Order forces opened fire, she knew he was right. "Be careful. He'll kill you if he can."

"I know." Ren's eyes widened a moment before he half-turned aside. Hux should have looked ridiculous—furious, smoke-stained, his uniform askew—but there was nothing amusing about the hard glint in his eyes as he aimed one the fallen trooper's blasters at Rey. He fired; Ren flung out a hand, catching the first bolt in his gloved palm, but the second found flesh. Ren snarled and dropped to a knee as the shot burned into the skin over his shoulder.

"Ren!" Rey raised her lightsaber to deflect the next trio of bolts—before the pressure of an unexpected stun bolt knocked her sideways. White hot pain seared her nerves, destroying or numbing them as the shot reverberated through her. She flailed, plunging toward the raging water below. She drew in on herself, shrouding herself in a protective cocoon of meditation as darkness consumed her—

Ren reached for her. And behind him, barely visible through the hail of red laser fire save for the pale light illuminating her in a mockery of moonlight, Leia Organa lowered her blaster.

Kylo Ren grimaced, bracing himself with his good arm as he leaned out over the platform, fingers stretched toward Rey. The Force held her immobile in the air for the moment it took Ren to grab her ankle. Blood dripped from his shoulder, running down his arm and over his blaster-scorched glove to stain her Jedi robes. The fingers of his good hand dug into the paneled flooring of the platform, straining to find purchase. Far below, the water frothed into raging foam as the waterfalls flooded down into the once-concealed cistern.

Rey hung limp. Ren wasn't sure if the stun bolt had knocked her unconscious, or if she'd managed to fling herself into a deep meditation before it could do its work. Ren drew in a deep breath, then let a sigh hiss through his teeth as he struggled for control. Catching and holding Rey with the Force drained him, threatening to exhaust him completely. He let the Force-grip ease away as he sagged against the platform, giving himself three breaths to collect his strength before attempting to haul her back up.

With half a mind he tracked the skirmish above him, noting the First Order troopers retreating to a location with better cover. A stray detonator landed on the lip of the platform, its red lights blinking in a quickening staccato. Ren spared an ounce of concentration to flick it down into the abyss. It exploded in free fall, the blast slamming against the platform. For one heart-wrench moment as overwhelming light and sound pounded his senses, he nearly let Rey's ankle slip through his fingers.

The aftermath of white explosion cleared from his vision too slowly. His ears rang in protest to the assault as a creeping, warning feeling tightened Ren's shoulder blades. He felt more than heard the blaster pistol's safety click off right behind him.

He turned his head enough to find the cause, and snarled a silent curse. Hux, damn him, was gone; ever practical, he would not remain in the middle of a ground incursion, especially not when his troops were pulling back. But the traitor lay prone, panting with pain and effort, his fingers circled around Hux's discarded blaster.

"Don't move," Finn said. Beads of sweat and blood ran down his face. One pupil was dilated—a symptom of Hux's mental 'failsafe'. "I'm detaining you on behalf of the First Order."

Finn narrowed his eyes and shook his head, as though confused by what he'd said. The blaster trembled in Finn's hand, but didn't stray from Ren's face. Ren forced his expression into an air of unaffected command; there was no way in the galaxy Ren was going to let himself get shot by a traitor on behalf of the organization he had betrayed. That Hux's programming failsafe seemed to be working would only make the insult worse.

"What is your designation, trooper?"

Finn stiffened, and hesitated before finally answering, "FN-2187."

"FN-2187. Lower your weapon. You need a medic."

"No." Finn shook his head, his lower lip trembling. "You're my enemy."

"Am I? I'm a Commander in the First Order."

Finn blinked, and as he struggled to make sense of the truth, Ren tried to heave Rey's body toward the platform. Though he could tighten his grip on her ankle, his arm didn't respond to his conscious command to pull. He risked a glance into the steadily-rising water beneath her and heaved again, willing his arm to obey.

But his fingers merely trembled as pain seized him from shoulder to wrist. A bead of sweat ran down his forehead and into his eyes, blurring his vision. His body felt ripped to shreds, his senses still reeling from the detonator blast, his instincts screaming at him not to take his eyes off Finn—and suddenly he knew what he had to do. The Force beckoned, willing him to give in.

It was an effort to convince himself to let Rey go.

He made himself to watch as Rey plunged down into the cistern, disappearing into the water. The Force flowed through him as Ren rolled to his feet. He had to act fast. Cradling his wounded arm against his chest, he ducked down to grab the front of Finn's jacket, and hauled him into the relative cover of the control room. Finn was so weak the blaster slipped from his fingers, but the addled man hardly seemed to notice.

"Those troopers were cut down with a lightsaber. Yours," Finn insisted as Ren pulled a medpack from one of the troopers' belts. "If you're truly with the First Order, then why—"

"It's not your place to question me, trooper," Ren said, fumbling the medpack open with one hand. Finn nodded, then his eyes rolled back in his head as another round of seizures clenched his body. Ren bit open the packet of bacta and poured it onto his charred and blaster-burned left shoulder, then pressed a stimpatch against Finn's neck. He was still shrugging out of his cloak when the Resistance forces swept into the room.

Ren stood and backed toward the maintenance hatch as they entered, pulling his lightsaber from his belt. Its hum as the blue blade sprung to life gave the Resistance pause, but still they eased into the room, blasters drawn and sighted on him.

"Commander Kylo Ren," the foremost said, glaring at him from behind her blaster. "Surrender and come quietly."

"Why would I do that?"

"There's nowhere for you to run. The First Order forces are pulling back."

Ren hesitated, then disengaged his lightsaber. The First Order was pulling back, no doubt, because Hux had already initiated the trap he had laid, and now had only to wait for the necessary pieces to fall into place; he'd want to enjoy watching Ren's downfall and Rey's capture. For all he'd expected it for years, the knife of betrayal cut deep, deep enough to kill. Ren snarled a humorless smile, and gestured toward the failsafe control. It hovered in the air before the Resistance, and they flinched away as though expecting it to explode.

When it didn't, the fighter took a bold step toward Ren. "What's that?" she barked.

"Hux engineered some sort of failsafe into the stormtroopers' brains to keep them from threatening him. This traitor seems to think he's back in the First Order." Ren nodded toward Finn as he backed toward the platform and the whirling water below. Somewhere with than raging mess, Rey's dimmed presence tugged at him. He didn't even know whether she could swim, didn't know if she was drowning—

Calm. Think. Trust the Force. He clipped his lightsaber to his belt, freeing up his good hand.

"Stop right there," the Resistance fighter ordered. "You can't expect that we'll let you escape alive."

Ren didn't bother answering—he had no more time to waste. He pushed at the front row of fighters with the Force, knocking them back against their compatriots. Those lucky enough to still have him in their sights fired at him—but all their shots went wild as he dove from the platform.

The fall was long, and the water battered the breath from him as he plunged into its icy grasp. Following his senses, he kicked toward the bottom of the cistern. Detritus and algae clouded the water, stinging Ren's eyes as he glared into the murk, fighting the spiraling current that threatened to drag him toward the center. He saw no sign of Rey entangled among the mess, yet the Force still called him, urging him deeper into the whirlpool.

To where her lightsaber tumbled end-over-end across the slime-coated floor before disappearing into the churning water beneath the largest of the falls.

Water pressure savaged Ren's ears as he darted down into the violent current. It slammed him against the bottom of the cistern hard enough that for a moment, he forgot his lungs' burning desire for air and simply fought to move, to kick himself away from the water's power. Somehow, he moved his arm, snagging the lightsaber as it scraped by him. Somehow, he kicked off the sloping cistern wall, and forced his way back to the surface.

His gasping breath was lost to the roaring of the water cascading around him. The cistern itself was dark, lit only from the daylight filtering down through the dome above. Red blaster bolts still flashed overhead, and beyond them, explosions in the atmosphere marked the continued engagement of Hux's fleet with whomever dared stand up to them.

Ren clenched Rey's lightsaber in his injured fist as he treaded water—then with one decisive effort, clipped it to his belt. He swam against the current, his left arm dangling uselessly as he reached the side of the cistern. The waterfalls blocked his view, yet still he expected to find a dark shadow moving along the walls as Rey climbed stubbornly away from the water.

He saw nothing.

Gritting his teeth, he sucked down another breath and ducked back beneath the surface. The banquet tables, the planted indoor forest, the serving droids—all of it tumbled toward the center of the cistern, caught in the irresistible whirlpool. He nearly missed the dark tangle of Rey's Jedi robes snagged in the refuse. Triumph mixed sickeningly with worry in Ren's gut as he swam toward the robes, as he reached toward them and felt the solid weight of Rey's unmoving body concealed and weighted down by its folds.

Ren ripped the brown cloth and pushed it from her shoulders. Her body floated free, and he grabbed the belt of her jumpsuit as he kicked from the cistern floor, angling toward the wall. He knew just from touching her that she was deep in meditation, a last resort to save herself from the stunbolt, but as they breached the surface he pressed a hand to her chest anyway, needing to be certain.

Her heartbeat shuddered into his palm, its rhythm painfully slow. Relief nearly shattered him, and he bowed his head against hers for the brief moment he allowed himself to regain his composure. She was alive. She was alive. She was alive.

The water had risen high enough, now, for Ren to painstakingly haul himself, and then Rey, onto a shallow shelf-like lip in the cistern. He refused to acknowledge the exhaustion tingling through his body, refused to allow it to make his movements and brain sluggish. Crouching over Rey, he took her face in his hands. A combination of the icy water and the severe meditation blued her lips and turned her skin an ashen white, but he ignored the pallor of death as he bent his thoughts toward hers.

Rey. Trying to penetrate her mind against her will was almost as futile as trying to breathe in the vacuum of space, but Rey had left cracks for him before. Ren's thoughts stumbled over her shields, searching for a way in. He leaned low over her as he silently demanded, Wake up.

When she didn't stir, he cupped her neck with his good hand, feeling again for a pulse. It pounded slowly beneath his fingertips, the only movement in an otherwise utterly serene body. Such feeling had raged in her mere moments before, and now—nothing.

The water rose toward them, threatening to sweep them from their perch and cast them back into the whirlpool. He forced his own heartbeat to steady as his thoughts snagged on a crack in her shields. Rey. We're running out of time. Wake up.

The edges of the shield crumbled, just enough, and he was in, traveling down cords of memory and emotion and instinct into the bundle of nerves controlling her consciousness. He brushed across it, melding his thoughts as gently as he could with hers. Wake up.

She gasped as he ripped her from her meditation, sitting up so abruptly that she nearly rolled from the ledge. She thrashed as he caught her, pulling her back against his chest.

"Rey. It's me," he said, tightening his arms around her. He pressed a kiss into her hair. "It's alright. It's me."

"Ren?" She relaxed, and her warmth bled into him. "Where—where's Hux? What happened to Finn?" She groaned as she levered herself to sit upright. "I've never been blasted with a stunbolt before."

"Hux retreated as the battle turned. Finn is—awake. The Resistance has him now." Ren pressed her lightsaber into her lap, his hands shaking so hard from fatigue and the icy water that he nearly dropped it. "I found this at the bottom of the pool. Be on your guard; whether or not this is part of Hux's trap, I don't think it will be hard for anyone to figure out where we are."

"And where is that, exactly?" she asked as she glanced up, raking her loose hair back from her face so she could study their surroundings. Despite being stunned, thrusting herself into deep meditation, and then being yanked out of that, her mind worked quickly. "Oh."

"Yeah. Come on. We need to get out of here."

"This might be a good time to mention that learning how to swim was at the bottom of my priority list," Rey said as they hauled each other to their feet. She narrowed her eyes at the water surging toward them in such stubborn refusal to give into it that Ren fought a smile.

"I figured," Ren said dryly. "If there's not a maintenance hatch somewhere along this ledge, we might be able to climb out."

Her glance strayed to his arm and he shook his head before she could comment on the injury. Instead she leaned up on tiptoe to press a gentle kiss against his lips. Ren shivered at the slight touch, chills of pleasure rising on his skin. "Maybe at some point we'll be able to spend time alone together without one of us getting blasted first."

"Occupational hazard." She attempted a strained grin that soon faded. "How did Hux learn about us?"

"I don't know. But I'm going to find out."

Abruptly, the waterfalls ran dry. The ledge shuddered as gears groaned, and more drainage holes opened in the bowl of the cistern. Above, the paneled floor separating the oasis from the cistern slid slowly shut, re-sealing itself with a horrible metallic screech that ground against Ren's nerves. Ren clasped Rey's hand in his as all light faded. Water sucked and gurgled as it rushed out of the cistern. Once it drained dry, silence descended over them.

Until far beyond, perhaps in the chamber above—or was it in Ren's mind?—his Master began to laugh.

Author's note: Rest in peace, Carrie Fisher, my princess and general. "Drowned in moonlight, strangled by her own bra."

Chapter Text

Chapter Twelve: Meld

Silence settled heavily over Rey and Kylo Ren as the last of the water trickled through the cistern drain. Not a sliver of light escaped the door as it hissed closed between the once-splendid oasis and the dank drainage tank, locking them into a would-be tomb. Rey shivered, fighting spastic remnants of the stun bolt crawling beneath her skin. Blasters echoed far off, reverberating through what had been meant to be a place of peace.

The Resistance might be in retreat, but Rey had studied the tactical scenarios laid out by the advance security team, plans designed for First Order pulling a stunt like this. This fight was far from over. And Hux-he could steal sight and sound from her, but he couldn't numb her to the Force.

It swelled through Rey, roaring between her and Ren like an untamed current before rushing up and out, finding each First Order trooper assembling above to prevent their escape.

She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of pinning her down here.

Rey hefted her lightsaber, igniting one of its twin blades. It hissed to life like sunlight. She turned it against the cistern wall, slashing a low cut for escape even as a klaxon screamed, echoing around the chamber. Red warning lights flashed a moment before the trap door above began to slide open. The widening gap revealed the muzzle of a portable gunnery position swinging around, aiming at her vibrant yellow blade. She thumbed it off, plunging them back into darkness, but it was too late.

"In," Ren barked, Force-wrenching the makeshift hole open before half-shoving her through it. She barely heard the whine of cannon over the wailing klaxon ringing in her ears, but the blaster fire slamming against the wall beside her head spurred her on.

Dim red lights illuminated the skeletal maintenance passage beyond. White durasteel walkways climbed the outer wall of the cistern, the passage so narrow that Rey's shoulders brushed the earthen wall on the other side as she rolled away from the opening. Ren backed through it after her, a cacophony of weapons fire on his heels.

One sweep of his lightsaber sent a trio of bolts back to their origin. A muffled explosion nearly covered the screams of Stormtroopers bailing from their positions. The turret fell silent.

"Well," he said, a wry twist to his lips. The corridor fell deeply silent as he disengaged the azure blade. "That bought us some time, maybe five minutes before they send someone down here after us." His hands trembled as he clipped the weapon to his belt, betraying the compounding strain of his injuries. Rey took his hand, kissing his palm as though that could somehow heal him. She shivered as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his breath stirring against her cheek as he murmured, "We should get moving."

Warm steam rose from the depths, rich with the scent of soil and humidity and things growing in places that rarely saw sunlight. Life, hiding in the heart of darkness. Buoyed by the steam, she hoisted herself onto the walkway scaffolding.

"Rey, what-?"

She grinned. "I have an idea. Follow me."

She climbed to the level of the cistern's ceiling before she realized he'd barely made any progress after her. Where she could slide through the beams like a Slith, his greater size and weight slowed him down, to say nothing of his injuries. Jaw clenched, his eyes focused on her as though she was some sort of target that he would reach-or die trying. What she wouldn't give to levitate him to her, but even that would be useless if her grasping idea failed.

"I'm going to make sure we have a way out," she called down to him, needing to move if only to tamp down her dizzying helplessness. "Keep climbing, I'll be right back."

The maintenance scaffolding ended as she reached surface level. Cautiously, she pushed aside the grate flooring designed to hide the maintenance corridors from view. Transparent steel jutted up into a high arc at her right shoulder, a decorative barrier shielding the complex within from the planet's raging winds. To her left, the transparent steel wall revealed the chaos of what had once been the oasis conference hall.

The stormtroopers had cleared the flood debris from the circular floor, and now arrayed themselves to fire into the cistern the moment its door slid open. Sparks flew from the turret where it stood smoking and empty. Balconies hung half-collapsed and blaster-scorched above them. Not a single trooper glanced her way.

But they could, at any moment.

She stood, utterly exposed in the molten morning sunlight streaming through the deceptively-delicate bubble of the complex. She held her breath, triggering on her lightsaber for the few heartbeats it took to sweep a circular opening through the outermost wall. Wind howled into the buffer space, raging through her hair and clothes, but none of the stormtroopers stirred in her direction. Silently thanking the Force, she eased back down into the maintenance shafts.

Ren hadn't made nearly enough upward progress. She felt his strength fade with every struggling breath. Frustration radiated from him, the knowledge that he had the power to to rip the building down if he'd needed to, but couldn't force his damaged body to obey.

"It doesn't matter if the First Order finds me," he grunted, perhaps sensing the line of her thoughts. "But you need to get out of here while there are still Resistance allies on the ground."

She ignored him.

"Rey-"

"The Resistance isn't going anywhere, and even if they were, I'm not leaving you here like this," she said, closing her eyes as she reached toward him with the Force. She found that bright binding of the Force twining them together and slid her mind along it until-

He clung to the scaffolding, eyes fixed unflinchingly ahead. Steam rose around him as though he was some specter from the past. Sweat and blood flattened his hair onto his face, half-concealing a grimace. The left shoulder of his jumpsuit was charred, exposing an angry blaster burn below. That arm dangled uselessly as he fumbled his way up the climb, lacking his normal grace.

Rey slipped along that bond until per mind nestled with his, his emotion flooding over her. She had no body, but far above she heard a gasp, saw a shadow shift in a protective lunge toward Ren, before pain nearly overwhelmed her. Exhaustion was only a breath away, pressing in, waiting for any mental breach. Ren blinked, half delirious, still climbing, as words tumbled over themselves in the shared mind. The dark presence of his Master demanding: Fulfill your destiny. The old teachings of the squat hermit, Yoda: Let the Force flow through you. Ren himself offering, I can show you the ways of the Force. The mantras blended and surged until they formed a roar held at bay only by sheer determination-and the pain. He barely had clarity enough to notice her presence within his own mind.

He'd told her once that he could focus on his feelings, could fashion them into strength. Today, it was not enough. Mere hours ago, their bodies had been as one. With the Force, their minds could be as one. She'd never been trained to convert emotion into power-but if she could do it, if she could lend him her strength...

She eased away from their mental connection enough to visualize the rope of light between them, and forced her raw power toward him. Her heart throbbed under the strain. Heat lay heavily over her, like when she'd clung to shadows to evade the Jakku sun, barely on the safe side of heat stroke. She licked dry lips, gasping for breath, as renewed vigor lightened his sluggish muscles. It was working. They'd be able to escape, could disappear, if only for a little while. They could-

She fell out of his mind, breaking the connection. Her head swam and just like that, her legs went out from under her. Her knees hit the deck with a thud that rattled the railing. It shook again as he reached her level, a dark smear behind the dots blotting out her vision.

Ren's hands took her shoulders, hauled her to her feet. For a dizzying moment, she couldn't convince her eyes to focus. Two people. They were two people, not-

"Rey," he breathed, half-amazed. "What did you do?"

"I don't know," she whispered back, so overwhelmed that tears sprang to her eyes. "I didn't think. I-"

He kissed her, lightly, holding her upright. They clung to one another on the thin railing, sharing breath, hands roaming over one another as though convinced the other wasn't real. Rey's heart raced alongside a gut-churning longing and bone-weary hope. But those words weren't adequate for this feeling, this overflowing reverberating between them. There weren't words to tell him, but surely he felt her burning alive. Rey felt-she felt-

"Do you feel this, Ren?" she asked, feverish, unable to keep her lips from his skin.

He hugged her so tightly that his heartbeat raced again her own chest. He met her eyes as he said, "I feel it," and pressed his lips to hers.

Clipped comm chatter rose from the scaffolding below. Stormtroopers, searching for them.

Ren jerked his chin toward the loose ceiling panel, urging her toward their escape. The Force guided her, keeping her beneath the notice of their hunters Rey climbed back up through the gap in the grate. Limbs wobbly and weak, she slithered through the gash she'd cut in the transparent steel wall, Ren on her heels.

Her hand closed around his as they disappeared into the wind-lashed plains, leaving the rubble of the failed accords behind.

Kylo Ren ran, slipping through whip-like stalks of grass. Rey's unimaginable gift energized him, second only to pure amazement at her power. He had no idea how she'd done it. After the initial shock of transference, she barely seemed winded. Their strides and even their breathing rose and fell in such sync that anticipatory heat tingled along his skin. He didn't know which he wanted more: to meditate with her, testing how deeply this newfound bond could flow, or to explore the more physical connection. His stomach tightened with a sudden hunger as he imagined doing both at the same time.

But only once they were safe. If they ever could be. In this, he could not fail. The risks they were taking to be together, the idea of something happening to her, made his stomach clench so hard he almost vomited. The certainty of Rey-and how that certainly had thrown everything else in the galaxy askew-was unlike any sensation he'd ever experienced before.

"We need a plan," Rey said, pulling him to a stumbling stop. "There." She pointed along the gleaming curve of the diplomatic complex. Dark smoke rolled over the horizon, pouring into the sky from the bombed landing pad. Flaming debris caught in the gusting wind, spreading embers to start half a dozen wildfires. "There's bound to be something there that's still flyable."

Attempting to steal a ship might get them killed faster than staying on the planet. A glance through the grasses waving overhead revealed a Star Destroyer hovering in low orbit above the complex. Waves of TIEs and bombers poured from its underbelly to engage the rat-tag fleets and diplomatic escorts-those that hadn't yet fled. A dark sliver of a transport ship detached itself from the fray, flanked by two TIE fighters.

Heading for them.

"Kylo. Did you hear me?"

Ren ripped his attention from the sky. Focus. "You're right. We need to get you off planet. Fast."

She gripped his hand even tighter. "If by me, you mean both of us."

Two bombers hung low to the horizon, lining up for a shot at the landing pad. He hauled Rey behind him, sprinting away from the fighters' target. The grass whipped at him, cutting his face, tugging him back. Every hard footstep jostled his chest, his breath ripping from his throat.

Two shrill whistles warned him of the impending explosion a moment before it roared over them, catching them and throwing them forward. Rey's hand ripped from his as the ground pummeled the breath from his lungs, the aftershock of the explosion hammering him into the charred dirt. White flashed in his eyes, nonsense screamed in his ears until it became the crackling of fire. Heat washed over him.

He was on his hands and knees, crawling through the smouldering, charred remnants of the grass as a wildfire raged with the wind. Rey lay sprawled before him, clearly stunned from the blast. Flames cast a crackling circle behind them, pushed out by the familiar frigate landing nearby. The wind cleared the smoke enough to reveal five black-armored and heavily-armed figures dropping from the ship's landing ramp. The Knights of Ren.

The foremost of the darkly armored Knights snapped to attention as the other four crouched into a clear defensive perimeter around the ship.

"Master Ren," said Ren's Second, Paik Gorrin, face cloaked in shadows by his deep cowl. He hefted a blaster carbine so large it was practically a small anti-spacecraft weapon. "We've been looking for you."

Behind them, framed in the hatch and partially obscured by the billowing smoke, Bazine Netal crossed her arms. She shook her head, the movement nearly imperceptible within the heat haze shimmering over the ground. The subtle warning hit him like a punch to his gut. Could his own Knights, every one of them sensitive to the Force but not trained to guide it, be turning against him?

Rey coughed, sitting slowly upright holding her head in her hands. Better to play it safe while she was anywhere near them. Ren let his lips curled into a smile and staggered to his feet, nodding in greeting to his Knights. "I bet you have."

"We're to take you and the girl to the Supreme Leader at once," Gorrin said, his creaking voice as emotionless as it ever was.

Ren might command the Knights of Ren, but ultimately they served Snoke. Not quite an honor guard and not quite mercenaries, Snoke held each with a bond of obligation so deep that even Ren didn't dare question the order. Their loyalty was faultless, their vengeance ruthless.

As once Ren's had been.

Everything was a test, a trap. Together, he and Rey walked the edge of a vibroblade. Any misstep, any incorrectly-shifted stance, could be fatal.

Rey was ready to fight. He felt her gathering herself, poised to spring into a battle she might not win-not against a group as experienced as the Knights of Ren. They'd killed Force Sensitives before. And he and Rey had come too far to fall to recklessness now. He slipped beneath her now-familiar mental shields, warning, Don't.

Her eyes flashed at him, stubborn and determined.

Trust me, he told her mentally. And then to Gorrin: "I expected as much." He forced tension from his shoulders. He didn't even hesitate before raising a finger, the gesture stealing Rey's conscious a moment before she slumped bonelessly upon the ashen ground.

He nodded blankly to Netal, the only one of them he might be able to trust. "Netal, see to the prisoner. And make sure you use binders this time."

Rey.

She sprawled in starlight, spinning through indeterminant light and space. Ren called to her again, and she focused on that anchoring tug, securing her spinning mind-

Rey drug herself to consciousness, sluggish as though weighed down by a nightmare. Even awake, the pins and needles of exhaustion pricked her body where she lay curled on the slick floor of the wrecked oasis, perilously close to the sliding door and its long drop to the empty cistern below. Several of the bioluminescent pebbles from the previous night's diplomatic dinner lay scattered across the dark floor like a scattering of stars.

Her head throbbed, and she breathed away the pain. The fear lingered. However long she'd been unconscious, it had been enough time for most stormtroopers to vacate the room. Only a half dozen-including the darkly-armoured troopers-remained to guard the old man sitting as bent and broken as a grey statue. He looked down upon from a dark seat that could only be described as a throne. Her lightsaber taunted her from the foot of the its dias.

Snoke.

A blazing red sun hung low on the horizon, silhouetting Ren where he stood facing it in meditation, hands clasped behind his back. She swallowed against the nausea of dread and something akin to betrayal. He'd let the troopers bring her here, to Snoke. Ren hadn't even given her a chance to resist.

Chills rose on Rey's skin as she struggled upright, locking down her own mental shields, uncertain. If only she knew what he intended. Binders encircled her wrists, but Netal had left them loose enough Rey could slip her hands through if given the chance. Her lightsaber was just there, and-

"At last. You're awake."

Snoke's gravity was undeniable. His presence in the Force pulled at her, demanding that she raise her eyes toward him, that she give him her attention. His gravelly voice made Rey's spine crawl. She tried not to shudder as the weight of his stare bore down on her.

"Master," Ren said quietly from across the room. "This is Rey. Skywalker's apprentice."

He didn't look at her as he faced his Master, but a tendril of his presence brushed against

her mental shields. Rey choked on a gasp, desperate for that connection even as she shook her head. She couldn't risk any vulnerability with Snoke so near. The acute realization that she had never been in so much danger, and that her Master was nowhere to aid her, nearly smothered her.

"Yes," Snoke growled, leaning forward to inspect Ren. He glanced between them suspiciously. "Although why it has taken two years for you to bring her to me escapes me. Explain."

Ren lifted his chin, but before he had a chance to answer, Rey slipped a hand from her binders and reached for her lightsaber-

Snoke held up a finger in warning, and Rey's body froze. An invisible fist gripped her, then drug her to the throne. Only a handbreadth away from her lightsaber, but she couldn't reach it.

He was taunting her. Don't panic. Calm. Trust the Force. Don't give into the panic pricking at the edge of consciousness. She gulped down slow, meditative breaths that gave her the courage to demand, "Let me go."

Snoke only laughed as his Force-manipulation pushed her hard to her knees. "We will speak in a moment." His eyes flickered back to Ren, though his grip on Rey didn't lessen. "Continue."

Ren's boots clicked on the floor behind her as he paced. She could almost hear his concentration as he considered every word before speaking. "Rey is too naturally powerful to bend against her will. It took time to get her to trust me."

Snoke's rage filled the chamber a moment before he snapped, "You tried to take her under your own control. You dared?! I made you who you are. You are on the cusp of truly magnificent power. This I have foreseen-if you can throw off the shackles of your past. But you must trust me."

"My past?" Ren glanced between Rey and Snoke before smoothly kneeling before the throne, so close he brushed against her. His glancing touch reassured her, even as he asked, almost sarcastic, "What else could I possibly do?"

Behind them, a door whisked open. Ren whirled to his feet, reaching for his lightsaber.

"Ah, General," Snoke said, voice suddenly mild. "What is our progress?"

Snoke's Force-hold prevented Rey from watching Hux's approach, but her skin crawled as she felt him studying her. Hux was smiling as he came around into her line of sight.

"We're engaged with Resistance allies to the west of the complex, but my troopers should clear them out shortly. The armada has captured several notable diplomatic vessels trying to flee, including emissaries from the Hapes Consortium, the Black Sun, and the Resistance. Nuisances, all, but potentially useful."

A horrible premonition gripped Rey as Hux's victorious eyes surveyed her. He said, "Word of the Jedi's capture has been circulated among our hostages to ensure their good behavior. However, portions of our fleet-"

Snoke brushed off news of the fleet. "See to it that no other diplomats escape. I want them all in one place."

"Of course, Leader Snoke." Hux inclined his head in respect. "Sir, may I ask of the other matter I brought to your attention?"

"You have concerns about Commander Ren," he sighed, as though weary of the topic.

The stormtroopers lining the walls shifted nervously, until the black-armored ones ordered them to stillness. Hux's unease oozed from him, but miraculously Ren did not rise to his own defense.

Hux cleared his throat, absently lifting a hand to his neck as though expecting the grip of a noose. "Even if we do not consider what occurred earlier today, when Commander Ren killed a squad of my troopers," he said, voice clipped and cold, "I have evidence of previous collusion with the Jedi. Perhaps even with Organa herself."

"I have not betrayed my Master," Ren said, voice ominously calm despite the resentment lifting from him. "If you recall, I defended you from attack mere hours ago. And I've not communicated with… her… in years."

"Betraying the First Order is betraying the Leader Snoke," Hux snapped, breaking his bearing enough to glare directly at Ren. "Why you insist on compartmentalizing-"

A boom of Force-amplified thunder shuddered through the room, killing the squabble. Snoke's mouth moved, but a ringing in Rey's ears stole the sound. After a moment, Hux drew a holopad from his pocket and held it flat on his palm.

An gray image materialized over the device. The recorder had looked down on Rey where she stood in the corridor just behind Bazine Netal's frigate cockpit. The holorecorder had clearly been hidden in the mercenary's ship-and sold to Hux, of course. Never trust a mercenary. The ship in the recording rocked, disturbing Rey's balance. Ren's voice, out of sight, ordered Netal to launch a homing beacon onto one of the Resistance ships. After a moment, he stepped into view, bending toward Rey.

Rey closed her eyes, heart twisting as she recalled the words he's spoken to her years before. Snoke is dangerous, and he wants you. It's too late for me, but not for you. Tell them you escaped me.

And the memory of that kiss, the last physical touch for what would turn into two years…

"There is more evidence," Hux said, smug. "The security on board was thorough. Especially in vital areas such as the engine room."

Knowing that Hux had spied on one of Rey's most profound experiences-with Ren-made her ill. He'd watched them like a sick voyeur, had listened to their most intimate moments, all to ferret bit of information out of context and submit them as evidence. Her head spun, whirling with rage-

But no. This is what Snoke wanted: the anger. Hers, and Ren's. That's why he allowed this absurd investigation to continue. She drew a shuddering breath, fumbling for calm. Ren did not.

The floor tiles creaked beneath them. Waves of energy rattled the curving walls. The stormtroopers bolted, all but the somehow-specialized dark-troopers. And Hux. He straightened his shoulders, the tightening of his jaw the only sign Ren had disturbed him.

"Hux," Ren snarled, voice so thick with anger that Hux actually took a step back. "I will kill you."

Snoke chuckled. "Good. Give into that anger, channel it to face your final test, and you will overcome you last hurdle to power." He jabbed a finger at Rey. "Turn it onto her. Destroy Skywalker's apprentice. Only then will you have the strength to kill Skywalker himself, and remove the blemish of the Jedi from the galaxy. Only then will your destiny be complete."

No. Visions of dual-layered lightsaber duels danced in her mind, and she gritted her teeth. Snoke wanted them to turn on one another. Together, they might overcome him.

Abruptly the vice holding her lifted, and she jumped to her feet. Snoke snarled a protest and Hux reached for his sidearm pistol as Rey realized that Ren was reaching toward her, that he'd somehow destroyed Snoke's hold on her.

No one moved. Finally, Ren let his hand drop, but not to draw his lightsaber. "I won't do it," he said, speaking to Snoke but looking at Rey. "I won't kill her. Loving her isn't a weakness. It's a strength."

The staggering words almost dropped Rey to her knees again. Instead she smiled, first at Ren and then triumphantly at Snoke even as she braced herself for attack. Concern knotted his face, but the ravaging anger she'd expected wasn't there. His lip trembled with disgust, but pity filled his eyes as he shrugged.

This was it, the moment from her vision. The lightsaber battle. And they could thwart it, they could-

"So be it," Snoke said, clearly disappointed. "But don't you want revenge, Rey? On the man who murdered your family? On the man responsible for you growing up alone. So alone?"

"Wh-what?"

"Hasn't Skywalker told you the truth about where you come from? What do you think was the first task I set my young, would-be apprentice all those years ago?"

"You're lying." Her entire being trembled, shattering her to pieces. Ren said something, but she couldn't hear him. She couldn't breathe-she couldn't-

Snoke pressed relentless on, enjoying his game. "I sent Ben Solo to destroy that hovel where Skywalker was training his next generation of Jedi. Your parents were there. Some sentimental fool must have smuggled the children off planet in those last desperate moments before Ben Solo died and Kylo Ren was born. You shouldn't ever have survived. And now… it's time for him to finish what he started."

"Unless," he added, as in afterthought, eyes gleaming. "You stop him before he can."

x.x.x

Chapter Text

Author's Note: In the spirit of upcoming [American] Thanksgiving, I just want to thank you all for following along and supporting me on this writing adventure for nearly two years. Your comments have been so motivating and inspiring along the way, and I hope you'll enjoy today's chapter. If all goes to plan, this'll be the second-to-last one. You've trusted me this far, I hope you'll trust me a little longer.

For bonus fun, here's a Spotify link to a playlist of songs that have moved me while writing this story. Give it a go on shuffle! https://open.spotify.com/user/r5ncs6fwa959la9kvyf4o8la7/playlist/6y76BGbkUrLf8tsTxL30QB

—twinsuns

Chapter Thirteen: Master

Kylo Ren remembered smoke.

The ground still trembled beneath the ongoing aerial bombardment of Snoke's Knights as Ren disembarked his transport shuttle. He gripped the hilt of his newly-made lightsaber, holding it loose and at-the-ready as he'd been taught, but the academy buildings shattering around him contained more serenity than the adrenaline-riddled mess of his mind.

Barely a man, not even two decades old, he'd come to kill a legend.

The smoke surged with him into the center of the small village, swirling from the burning rubble outside and into the meditation antichamber that had become a sort of sanctuary for the Force-adept. A sanctuary no longer, after tonight.

Ren hadn't come to face the other apprentices. Necessity compelled him to cut down those who stood in his way with the Force and the blade and sheer determination. Outwardly calm, he swept into the inner sanctum of the antichamber, smoke washing behind him to cover his fallen foes.

He'd found Skywalker standing at the center of the central stone plinth. Facing away from Ren, shrouded in his simple brown Jedi robes, he hadn't even looked at Ren as he sighed, "Oh, Ben. What have you done?"

The blood red blade of Ren's lightsaber burned bright, speaking to his fury. He didn't remember igniting it. But of course he had, to take down the other apprentices—

Ren jerked out of the half-hallucination, half-memory. He was no longer a malleable youth standing chastized and furious before a man he'd grown to hate. It was Rey staring at him with new reckoning as she demanded, "Is it true? When you attacked the academy—did you kill my parents?"

Ren couldn't answer. There was a possibility—a faint possibility—

He'd known all the apprentices, had trained with them for years. Young, like him, they'd come from all walks of life, most of them unattached to family encumbrances, and dedicated to the Force—except the ones simply living in perpetual awe of Skywalker's mere presence. Any children at the academy had been refugees or natives, not Force Sensitives. What had happened to them when he'd come seeking vengeance, and left the village in ruins?

He'd never given them a passing thought.

Ren forced himself to meet Rey's eyes, and she read the truth in them they way she did so well. She scoffed a bitter laugh, her voice thick with unshed tears. "You don't even know, do you."

The callous words—the truth—seared through is gut, the hot pain worse than any blaster bolt.

Snoke rested his chin on his hand, outwardly bored. His eyes, intent on Rey's face, betrayed his continued scheming. "Someone fled with you off planet. And left you. Alone. So close to starvation for years. So lonely. And for what?"

Rey closed her eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks as Snoke filled her head with talk of murderous vengeance, of blame, of righting old wrongs with fist and fury.

It was what Snoke had done to him. Ren had thought it was commiseration, understanding—no one else had been willing to listen, had taken his feelings seriously. No one at the academy had even encouraged him to acknowledge feelings. He thought Snoke's attention had been caring, born of a desire to help.

That was a lie. His words were only fuel, and Ren had only been a tool for Snoke to use to gain power and an upper hand in the eternal struggle of the Sith against the Jedi.

Behind Rey, a blue specter winked into life, his aura pale where he stood at Hux's shoulder. Ben Kenobi, another ghost haunting him, another old mentor shaking his head with a disappointment Ren knew he deserved. Face the truth. Now Ren understood.

He'd been a fool. He'd been tricked. Snoke didn't want to teach him—he'd wanted to dominate Ren, to possess the raw strength and power and destiny he constantly lauded Ren with. Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa, and even Han Solo had seen it—Ren had killed his own father for it. And he could never take it back.

But he'd told Rey before: it was too late for him. Not for her.

"Don't listen to him, Rey," Ren said, voice grating against the grip of pain and threat of tears choking him as he broke out of his horrified stupor. "All he wants is to control you. He'll say anything to get you to trust him."

"Hypocrite!" Her eyes flashed, and suddenly her wrists were no longer bound, the loose binders clattering to the floor. Her lightsaber snapped into her hand as she lunged for him. Snoke grinned, his amusement clashing with the fascinated fear flashing across Hux's face, as Kenobi faded from sight.

Ren barely got his own blade up in time to block her opening salvo, three quick jabs to head-gut-head as though she was weilding a quarterstaff. He batted down each strike, giving way. He was a master with a blade, and she athletic and well-trained enough that any duel between them should have been practically a dance, an art form—perhaps even foreplay. But they'd both been pushed too far. The exhilaration fueling his body after his intimate Force-connection with her had long worn off, and not even meditation made him feel whole again.

The last time they'd crossed blades, she'd battled him down with pure righteousness; tonight her fury and sorrow broke over his damaged body, over and over, wearing on him like an ion cannon systematically shutting down a ship's computer, rendering it useless. It was all he could do to hold her off, one-handed, as she pressed her main advantage: he didn't intend harm her, and she knew it.

He focused on their sweeping, battling blades; focused on his breathing, pulling strength out of his protesting body; focused on how good the Force felt, raging between them. Anything to keep from acknowledging the pain of how quickly she'd turned her blade onto him, after everything they'd shared. After what he thought he meant to her.

"Everyone told me what a monster you were," she hissed as their blades locked, a ray of sun meeting the blaze of engine light, the vibrant colors washing over her face. "But I didn't want to see it."

"I never tried to trick you." He shoved her back with the Force, opening space to maneuver. Giving him time to think. He wished he could pin her still, but she was ready for it, blocking or side-swiping every attempt to touch her with the Force, building herself into a lather of anger so frustrating he finally snarled, "Stop it, Rey! He's doing it to you, too! You're following right down that path behind me."

"I thought that was what you wanted," she retorted, moving in for another series of attacks. "For me to feel?"

She left openings in her attacks, vulnerabilities he sensed without really seeing them, but couldn't capitalize on. He drank deeply of the Force, coming as close as he possibly could to begging it to aid him. And when he realized with a stomach-knotting surity just how close he was to panking, to abandoning his trust in the Force—the one thing that had been constant in his entire life… he let his tension go.

Rey stumbled as he relaxed, suspicious, letting down her guard enough for him to grab her arm and haul her close. He didn't want Snoke or Hux to overhear him whisper,

"One of the old Masters said that we are luminous beings." And her face was luminous as she listened, the fiery glow of his lightsaber reflected in her bright eyes. "Let go of the past, of the crude matter preventing the Force from flowing through you." He dared to cup her face with his battered, bleeding hand. "Rey, you have such power. You're wonderous enough without losing yourself to pain."

She caught her breath, and for a marvelous heartbeat Ren thought that his words might have penetrated the fuzz of hurt that he knew was fueling her attack. Until she jerked out of his reach. "Don't you dare quote Master Yoda to me, Ren."

She leapt up, kicking him in the wounded shoulder and using the momentum to flip into the blasted walkways above. The pain blossoming in his shoulder dropped him momentarily to his knees, until he ensnared the sensation and turned it into the strength to follow her up onto the lowest bridge.

The walkway slanted at a crazy vertical angle, forcing him to cling to it as he climbed after her. It was what she wanted. As he neared her, she leapt nimbly back to the ground, cutting the hanging support. The bridge disappeared beneath his feet—but he knew her as well as she knew him. Prepared for her maneuver, he used the last of his strength to catch the breaking bridge, holding its pieces mid-air long enough to stride down it like stepping stones. An impossible, impressive feat, one that should have been far out of his reach.

He didn't dwell on it as he disengaged his lightsaber. The bridge crashed to the floor, sending the Knights of Ren diving out of its way. Without the hum of his blade, the room plunged toward silence. He drew the Force around him, listening for her footsteps, alert for her next attack.

Something niggled at his mind, an undeniable presence. Not hers. Something not-quite-sentient, persistent, familiar, tugging his perception across the room to reveal the twisted hunk of metal behind which she must be hiding. It took him a moment to recognize what must be calling to him, just as it had as it tumbled across the flooded cistern floor.

Her lightsaber.

Snoke's slow applause sliced through the silence, shredding Ren's concentration.

"Good," he chuckled. "This is the way of the Sith. One of you will emerge from this room triumphant. Stronger. Give into the Dark side, and your enemy will only be a stepping stone, crushed beneath your boots."

Rey disengaged her lightsaber and pressed her back to the fallen walkway, trying to swallow the sound of her gasping breaths. She shouldn't have been breathing this hard, shouldn't have been winded at all, but chaos ruled her mind.

Snoke's words roared in her ears, spurring on her recklessness. Had Master Skywalker known, truly, what happened to her parents? Had he known them, known that they were dead and no one would be coming for her. He had known, allowed her to be abandoned, and never said anything. Just as he known that if Rey found out about Ren's entanglement with her own past, she—like the rest of the Resistance—would wish him dead. That if she'd known, all of this—her path for the past two years—would have gone so differently.

Master Skywalker taught that anyone could choose to come back to the Light side, no matter what they had done. His own father, Anakin Skywalker, the legendary Darth Vader, proved it by turning on the Emperor, sacrificing himself to save his son. How had she been so blind not to see it before? Master Skywalker hadn't been trying to save her at all. She had been the sacrifice, the novelty used to lure in his nephew, his failed prodigy student. To save him. Ren.

She wrapped trembling fingers around the hilt of her lightsaber. Ren was too good at swordplay, too certain of himself and the Force to make a sloppy mistake. Too calm. To best him, she needed to get a grip, and focus. She could do this, whatever this was. She held her breath for a count of five, then exhaled on a three-beat, trying to meditate. The tide of anger ebbed, nauseating doubt swirling in to replace it. She tried the breath control again, her anxiety only ratcheting up. What was she doing? This must be the reason Jedi didn't give in to emotion. She was too overwhelmed to move. Again the meditation failed, and—she gasped for breath that wouldn't come—

A heavy object thudded to the ground nearby, metal screeching on the floor to shatter the silence. She winced away, half-expecting that one of the Knights of Ren had tossed a detonator to flush her out, but as the device skidded to a halt at her feet, she recognized Ren's lightsaber.

"This is a mistake," Ren called. When Rey peered at him over the edge of the twisted rubble of bridge, he laced his fingers at the back of his head in surrender, staring straight at her. He'd found her, so easily. "I'm not fighting you anymore, Rey."

Something he'd said ricocheted inside her mind. Luminous. She recalled the holovid that she'd once watched on a loop, a recording Master Skywalker had made to preserve Yoda's wisdom beyond his death. Though she'd been struck by the very word that Ren had called to mind, this time her tortured mind tumbled over one idea:

You are not this crude matter.

You are not this. You are better than this. Rey knew it was true.

The veil of her feelings shifted, from rage—to shame. Blackness crowded the edge of her vision. Everything went sideways, and then somehow she was on the floor, mind spinning, lacking the basic coordination to push herself upright. Her temples pounded so loudly she barely heard herself call for him.

But he heard her. "Rey. Stay there.."

Snoke hissed a sigh, clearly annoyed. "I give you chance after chance. Enough of this noble playacting."

The rubble blocking Rey from sight slid across the room, exposing her to view. Snoke's Force grip jerked her to the forefront, violent and impatient. Its touch suffocated her, jarring her whole body, as though Snoke couldn't quite control the desire to throttle her senseless. Her fingers clenched her lightsaber, unable to raise it, and she suddenly wished she'd shown Ren's strength and courage to throw it aside. Now it was too late.

Her skin felt like it was shrinking, crushing her bones as though she'd been thrown into a high pressure vat. She couldn't move. She couldn't move. She could only scream, venting the frustration welling up from the depths of her soul.

"Stop hurting her," Ren snarled, stretching a hand toward Snoke. His face hardened in concentration as he attempted to wrestle control over the grip torturing her. And won. Rey fell to the floor, gasping for air. The chamber darkened with Snoke's rage. He slapped Ren down with a Force blast so strong that the vice grip settled over Rey again, stronger than before.

Frozen in unending pain, Rey stared unwillingly through the transparent-steel ceiling, gaze boring into the night sky. A cluster of blue lights, like a nebula, appeared just beyond the Star Destroyer sitting in low orbit over the compound. Hope snared in her chest as the lights scattered, surrounding the fleet above.

The Resistance. They'd come back.

Oblivious to the renewed battle raging in space above, Snoke frowned. "You continue to disappoint, my young Apprentice." His uplifted hands spread. Still controlling the vice grip around Rey, he pointed toward Ren. Lightning flared from his fingertips, lashing at Ren in flashing staccato so quick it could have been one continuous strike. Purple light danced on the mirror-like walls as Ren dropped to his knees, body twitching and curling on itself. Lightning traced his bones for five unendurable heartbeats.

The brutal silence of it was horrific. Rey struggled against her bonds, pushing with her mind as the attack ceased and Ren shivered on the floor, his clothing smoking. The gasp that escaped him wrenched her heart, but the light had hardly paused before it began again.

"Weak. Foolish. After years of effort training you, this is how I am repaid? Instead of killing your past, you embrace it?"

Snoke's scathing speech was relentless. Parts of it were familiar, the same honey he'd just poured into her ears, the same tricks he'd just tried on her, designed to drum up the desire for vengeance against all the wrongs done to her as though just one more murder would solve everything.

She'd been falling for it, tipping right over the edge. She thrashed harder, fighting his grip—and an explosion flared from the Star Destroyer above a moment before a concussive force slammed into the compound.

Hux ducked, staring wide-eyed through the ceiling as the buzz of static chatter squawked from his comm. "The Finalizer took a direct hit," he muttered, as though he'd never expected to have to utter those words. He turned back toward Snoke. "Sir, the Resistance fleet returned."

Snoke showed no sign of hearing him. He stood before his throne, looming over Ren with lightning streaming from his fingertips.

"Sir." Hux darted forward, keeping wide of Ren's writhing agony. "This area is no longer safe, we—"

"Leave me," Snoke said, lightning reflecting in his soulless eyes. "I will follow when I am done."

A deeper dark shifted in the room as the Finalizer slowly wheeled, retreating from the battle. Hux nodded toward the Knights, a silent command for them to intercede. Half of them moved forward toward Snoke in confusion, while the other half kept back in the shadows as they'd been ordered.

It was Rey's best chance. Giving up on accomplishing anything with her physical body, she reached for Ren's lightsaber where it lay forgotten among the rubble. She mentally triggered the blade to life as the weapon streaked like a missile through the air. The moment the blade sizzled through Snoke's chest, his lightning died.

The Force-grip around her vanished in an eye-blink. She caught Ren's blade as Snoke stumbled forward, falling from his throne. Hux stared, aghast, as Snoke screamed. A mental pressure she hadn't even noticed pressing on her senses vanished, and she gulped down air as though it was her first breath. Rage like a physical wall blasted her, but she planted her feet and leaned into it, triggering her own lightsaber to life. She let the mental impact wash over her, dual yellow blades guarding her right flank, Ren's azure blue blazing on her left.

The Knights of Ren closed in around Snoke, weapons leveled on Rey. They opened fire and she caught the bolts, like she'd seen Ren do a handful of times before. Instead of merely holding them immobile, she pushed them back, reversing the power to send them exploding over the Knights' heads. And with them the mental command, "GO."

Hux stumbled backward and fled the room. Rey hardly dared to breathe. She couldn't let them see how she trembled, couldn't let them know how weak she was. Burning debris fell from the damaged Finalizer, slamming into the windows and pelting the grasslands around them like a rain of fire. They would all die if they remained here. And for the first time… Rey wondered if that wouldn't come as a relief.

"If you don't want me to kill him, take him," Rey breathed, stalking between the Knights and Ren. "Go." She glared until they went, Snoke carried between them. She felt Snoke's retreat through the Force, his Darkness attenuating far too slowly for comfort.

When their footsteps disappeared, when she was certain no one was coming back, she disengaged both lightsabers, dropping them as she collapsed half on top of Ren.

He wasn't conscious.

"Kylo," she called, shaking him. His skin burned. There was no other evidence of Snoke's attack, no char nor wounds, but his body flexed and eased, still tortured by the lightning raging somehow within him. He clenched his jaw, perhaps against the pain, perhaps to hold in a scream. She listened to his chest, uneasy with the uneven, scattered rhythm of his heartbeat and his utter lack of response.

No time to panic. She reached gentil tendrils of the Force toward his mind, trying to discern how deeply he was harmed, to skim along his body and rejuvenate it as she'd done earlier. She couldn't even get beyond the first layer of his mental shields. She flicked off the cover of her lightsaber with shaking hands, pulling out its small kyber focus.

The heart, the center fragment, of the crystal that had once powered Ren's old lightsaber. It had taken hours of intense meditation and all of Rey's the mechanical instincts to refine the shard, finding a segment undamaged in the greater whole. But she'd wanted something that had once been his, something private to hold and keep with her, something that would link them even if across all the stars they never came again into one another's orbit.

She pressed the crystal to Ren's chest, summoning the last of her strength into the crystal focus, lending it to his faltering heart.

"Leia, wait!"

Rey barely recognized Master Skywalker's voice. She glanced up in time to see General Organa break away from her brother's hold, running so quickly across the damaged room that she left her aids and guards behind.

Master Skywalker held out a hand, blocking the General's advance. "Don't disturb her."

The General sank to the floor a stride away, cradling a blaster rifle as though it was her child, but her voice was strong as she demanded, "Is he alive?"

Rey sat back on her heels, groggy and disoriented. Light glimmered within the crystal, then leached slowly into his chest. "You shot me," Rey mumbled. It felt like so long ago, but had only been that morning. "With a stun bolt. You thought I was attacking him."

"Weren't you?" the General asked, distracted. She seemed not to notice the dim crystal on Ren's chest. Rey couldn't keep her eyes off it. "I need a medic!"

It all passed in a blur. Resistance fighters surrounded them, pouring over Ren's battered body; she followed them down a hall, jostled by shoulders rubbing against hers, yet no one dared to meet her eyes; she stood alone near the edges of a frantic, smouldering landing bay, the echoing noise stirring up a headache, while the medic whispered words she wasn't supposed to overhear, words like exhausted and collapse and breakdown; she sat in a small, dark room, the blue whirls of hyperspace curving outside the viewport.

Someone knocked on the door, waited a moment for her response. When none came, the door slid open. Master Skywalker stepped inside, face grave as he took a chair next to her little bunk. How long he stared at her, gently probing with the Force, she had no idea. She stared back, as though her eyes could proclaim that she knew the truth, and dare him to lie to her again.

"The flight doctors want permission to sedate you," he said, crossing his arms. "I suggested meditation. A healing trance."

A healing trance. Finally, a name for what she'd instinctually done to Ren. The frisson of remembrance, of once again being that enjoined and in tune with him, lifted chills on her skin. That momentary wonder, before she'd gone and tried to—

"What?" Master Skywalker asked, voice quiet as he searched for answers. "I didn't understand what you said."

"I said I tried to kill him. Ren." Her voice caught speed as the admission welled out of her. "It was like some circuit fried in my brain and I—I was so angry. Alone, again, like I was all those years."

"Will you tell me what happened?"

Rey stirred herself enough to ask, "Is Ren alive?"

"Yes. He's in the medical bay. He's stable. They say he should recover given treatment and time. They don't know if his arm is salvageable."

Salvageable. Like rather than a man, he simply consisted of the not-quite-fried parts that Rey had once so longed to find out in the sandblasted wasteland battlefields of Jakku.

Rey licked her lips. It was a monumental effort to rally concentration. "Snoke said that Ren killed my parents. He said that you knew about it. Is it true?"

Something in Master Skywalker's expression broke. His eyes shuttered a moment before he glanced away from her. "Snoke said," he repeated carefully, as though filling in an expected piece of a puzzle.

"So it's true."

"No," he said, barely audible. "It's not."

The simple words… Rey could barely understand them even as she felt the truth of them. She drew her legs up, resting her forehead on her knees to hide her face. All that she'd done, slipping toward the Dark side, over something that wasn't even real. Tears dripped down her cheeks, staining her dirty, battleworn jumpsuit as she said, "He made me hate you. It was so easy."

Master Skywalker drew in a long breath. "I should have seen those lies coming. Your perfect triggers, the perfect thing to drive a wedge between us, between you and—my nephew. I should have—" he paused, cleared his throat. "I've made so many mistakes. None of what happened tonight was your fault, Rey. None of it."

"I touched the Dark side." For all Rey said it evenly, the thought was leaden. The admission should feel painful, shouldn't it? Perhaps she'd burned all the feeling out of her. She said it again, because she still couldn't believe it. "I touched the Dark side."

"It was what Snoke wanted," Master Skywalker said, just as level as she, and for a moment Rey despised that Jedi calm. "He tricked you." Rey heard the unspoken words, I told you he would try, whether he intended them or not. The world spun, vertigo pulling at her stomach though she knew she was sitting still.

"I've touched the Dark side too."

Rey blinked at him, stunned, as he continued:

"And I came back. Even my father came back from the Dark side. These trials… what you've experienced will make your trust in the Light that much stronger."

"And Ren?"

"That's up to him."

She pulled Ren's lightsaber from its place on her belt and pressed it into Master Skywalker's hand "He… he tried to protect me from Snoke. For years, we've been dancing around one another and he did whatever he could to keep me from Snoke's grip. Hux thinks he's a traitor."

Master Skywalker didn't even glance at his father's lightsaber, the one she'd lost on Sumarin, the one he'd lost when his hand was severed on Cloud City. So much history in that weapon, and he barely noticed its return. "Perhaps he sensed, unconsciously, what Snoke was doing to him."

She was too exhausted to answer, to try to find reason in anything.

"We can work through it together, Rey. But will you tell me… what happened in that chamber? I sensed so much pain."

Rey sighed, so weary she barely made it to her feet. The weight of her lightsaber tugged at her until she snagged it from her belt and threw it on her bunk. The light outside the viewport wavered, stars solidifying into realspace. "Ask Ren," she said, swallowing the urge to vomit as she slapped the door panel, letting light stream into the room.

"Rey?"

"I need to be alone," she said as the light pierced her eyes. She shied away from it as she stumbled down the hall. She reached out, searching for Ren with the Force, and found his presence nearby.

Her face burned with embarrassment. She didn't know what to say to him—to anyone. Snoke had played her like a fool, and she'd let him.

She'd let him.

The hangar bay swelled with people. Celebrating. The Resistance had punched a hole in the First Order fleet, striking a nearly-fatal blow to the Finalizer as they rescued the diplomatic hostages. It hadn't taken long for whispers to stir that Rey had slain or wounded Snoke, that Kylo Ren had turned against him in those last moments before the Dark spell on him lifted.

As though it was some sort of magic. As though what had happened could ever be so simple.

She hoped no one noticed her slip into her nondescript black shuttle in a back corner of the hangar bay. One jab of a switch brought the power online. She worked through the pre-flight checklist in a daze, only looking up when someone bounded up the gangplank.

"I found you!" Poe Dameron practically danced down the corridor toward her, hard to miss in his vibrant orange flight suit. He leaned over her cockpit chair, grinning. "Come join the party! You deserve it."

She shook her head, turning back toward her controls so he couldn't see her expression. "I can't." Her voice trembled, and she swallowed before she insisted, "I need to go."

"Go? Go where?"

"Anywhere."

"Hey, hey, hey," Poe soothed, smile fading as he crouched beside her, crossing his arms over his knees. "Are you alright?"

"Everyone out there thinks I'm some sort of hero." How could she make them understand how reckless, how dangerous… how utterly close to ruining everything she'd come? "I need to be alone for a little while. I—" she hung her head, realizing how childish she sounded. "I need to think. I need to fly."

She understood why Master Skywalker had fled his mistakes, all those years ago. Shame.

Poe studied her for a moment, then leaned over her comm screen, punching in a code. "We're on alert, but this is a security code to get you out of the hangar. And this," he said, pulling a comlink from his pocket, "Is a long-distance comm, keyed to BB-8. You call if you need me. Alright?"

His eyes bored into her. Not forcing her to promise she'd come back… but hoping she would. She took the comm, then wrapped him in a strong, but brief, hug.

"I will. I promise."

Kylo Ren awoke in a bacta tank, and sensed instantly that he wasn't in the Finalizer.

The room beyond his tank was dark, except for the fuzzy glow of the silent specter standing just barely within Ren's line of sight. Kenobi, again. Probably there to gloat. Ren groaned, his pulse pounding against his skill. Lightning flickered behind his eyelids with every blink, and he tensed, expecting his Master's tormenting blow... It took a moment to realize that blow wasn't coming.

Kenobi remained, unnoticed by anyone else, as Ren made himself regain focus, unwilling to yield to the memories. Beyond the small room containing his tank, sliding doors revealed rows of medical beds arrayed along the far side of the room, all filled with healing or dying bodies. Medical droids tended to the wounded, changed bandages or administering treatments or tinkering with the settings of those—like him—doused in bacta.

The mask strapped to his face supplied him filtered and recirculated air; every breath echoed in his head, reminding him of the days he once hid behind a mask, afraid of becoming who he was truly meant to be. Afraid of failure.

And he'd failed anyway.

The blurred figure of a woman waited just outside his tank, her greying dark hair swept into a crown of braids at her temple. The way she always used to wear it. But even with that, her presence in the Force was unmistakable.

He recognized the moment she realized he was awake, her excitement and trepidation gathering in the Force as she pressed her hand against the tank, getting as close to him as she could.

General Organa. He hadn't let her touch him in half his life.

Ren considered what would happen if he lifted his hand, pressing it opposite hers. What it would mean, what she would think. But lifting his hand would mean making a decision, perhaps changing a stance that he'd thought was set in stone. It would mean admitting he'd been wrong about… everything.

His left shoulder burned. Dully, he wondered if he even could lift that hand any longer.

The double-doors whisked open again, and this time Ren noticed the guards posted outside it before Skywalker, dressed in his usual dark robes, stepped into the room.

The tank rattled with his outpouring of emotion before Ren could clamp down on the flare of hate writhing in the pit of his stomach. General Organa glanced over her shoulder, frowning. "Luke. It's too soon. You shouldn't have come here."

Skywalker's blue eyes flashed toward the tank, his gaze searing through him as it always had. "He won't attack. He's changed. If he wanted me dead, I would be by now. You should be proud. He's strong, so much stronger in the Force than I could have predicted."

Ren wanted to strangle him with the Force just to prove Skywalker's first assumption wrong. Instead, he regained control of his breathing, resentful of the sound of his breath echoing in his ears. She should be proud?

Yet… there had been a grudging respect in Skywalker's voice. He was giving a little. And Ren… he could try to bend. For Rey, he would bend to civility. He could try.

"Is Rey dead?" he asked, keeping his voice flat to hide the fear, even though he knew Skywalker could sense it anyway.

"No."

Damn him, he was going to make Ren ask. "Did she go with Snoke?"

"No."

Relief broke over him, but still he pressed, unable to be anything but relentless with this man who had so disappointed him, again and again, and still was repeating his old mistakes. "I can't sense her. Why."

"We just spoke. She was very unsettled by whatever happened with you and Snoke. She's withdrawn into herself."

Of course she had. She'd been tricked into touching the Dark side, and when she'd realized it, what it was driving her to do—the horrors that she was capable of, and how easy it had been—

He knew exactly how she felt. "Release me. I need to see her."

"You're not a captive," General Organa said, the words wrenching from her throat. "Listen to me, B—my son. You're not a captive. But you need to heal. Your arm—"

"I don't care." Not about his arm, not about being her son. He couldn't; to begin to even try to sift through those emotions overwhelmed him.

And then Skywalker said, "You can't see her. She left."

When the tank rattled again, Skywalker held out a hand as though the gesture could calm Ren. As though that were possible. Ren clenched his jaw, focusing on the single truth left to him, using that to hone his emotion into one point, one single blaster bolt burning through all else: all Skywalker had managed to do was further shake Rey's self-assurance. He'd sent her running, the same way he'd run.

"Is that what Jedi do?" he snarled. "Run from their problems?"

"If you don't give her the space to work through this, you'll drive her back to a place that none of us—her included—want her to go. Give her time." He leaned close to the tank, almost threatening him. "And I'm not running any longer, Ben."

Ren glanced between the brother and sister, and the earnest hope simmering between them. Not hope just for Rey, but for him.

Patience. He had been patient for so long. And cunning. And brutal—and all the other things he'd been to survive the cut-throat world of Hux's First Order, and to achieve whatever Snoke had demanded of him. Before he'd cast Ren aside like he was nothing. And it all was nothing, compared to the depths of the Force he'd brushed while battling Rey—while fighting for her. And himself.

What Skywalker, the Resistance, General Organa—what any of them thought didn't matter. He'd find her, if she wanted him to. Closing his eyes, he reached toward Rey, recalling the tendril of light that she'd used to share her own vitality with him. Across the room, the kyber crystal sitting atop Ren's folded clothes gleamed, exploding like a star with crystalline light as it sensed his call.

Ren waited. And for the first time, he didn't feel Rey's answer.

x.x.x

Chapter Text

Chapter Fourteen: Luminous

The simulator screen spit Kylo Ren out into utter chaos.

He'd joined a classic engagement, one of the many clashes between the remnants of the old Empire and the fledgling New Republic after the Emperor's death and the destruction of the second Death Star. This battle had been an ambush at an Imperial base, one he'd grown up daydreaming about as a child: Thrawn's fleet against a greater New Republic force.

The simulation had populated Kylo Ren as a lowly New Republic fighter pilot, flying a battlescarred X-wing, the difficulty of his opponents amped up for a true test his piloting prowess.

He settled into the cockpit and joined his squadron in the middle of the fray, the feel of the X-wing ejection seat not as familiar as the TIEs he had trained in in the First Order. Yet Resistance versus First Order didn't matter here; he didn't have to pick sides. In the simulator, his focus narrowed, ignoring real-life concerns.

Here, he could forget that, in reality, there was little control left to him. That the very things anchoring him and guiding him within the cosmos—his position the First Order, his training under Snoke, the reputation of Kylo Ren—had crumbled around him, leaving him spinning on an unknown orbit. His mental connection to Rey had gone silent. Not since his youth in Skywalker's academy had he been this uncertain of where he belonged, or what to do about it.

Here, he only had to fly. And today, in this simulator, he was going to turn the tide of the battle. He had to.

He let a Force trance wash over him. He'd been in enough true dogfights to know that a battle couldn't truly be captured by a simulation—he couldn't feel the emotion and current of battle wash through him, the Force carrying him with it. But with enhanced intuition and reaction, he could come close.

The ship rocked around him, buffeted by close calls. His squadron turned to tatters as they cleaned up an opposing array of ships, then re-formed to protect the bomber squadron as it struck at one of the enemy command ships.

It was amazing the damage that one snubfighter could do with the right missile lock, but success painted a target on his back. The command ship disintegrated behind him, four enemy TIEs hot on his tail until he flipped the ship on its axis, g-forces mounting as prey turned into predator. Four ships scattered under his guns—then three—then two—until one remained.

That single TIE chased him beyond reason, dead-set on revenge, as the Imperial fleet crumbled. Ren could barely keep himself out of its sights. He fled too far out of range to make it back to the hangar before the damaged New Republic fleet jumped out of the system. He'd known the New Republic would cut their losses and run eventually, but he didn't have long to dwell on yet another betrayal before the dogged TIE scored a lucky shot through Ren's flagging shields. His controls locked up, his fighter careening out of control into the void where his allies had just been, cockpit lights flashing red staccato warning as systems failed—

The lights went out, the cockpit stilling. Ren blinked into the black, pulling himself out of his Force reverie and the riveting grasp of battle. The TIE had blasted his damaged ship into oblivion. Simulation over.

Gasping, he jammed a fist into the cockpit canopy release. It unsealed with a hiss, the harsh hangar lighting pouring in as he pulled himself out of the pilot's seat. He felt Resistance eyes on him as soon as he pulled off the flight helmet, but didn't let his irritation at the distrust show as he leapt down from the sim's fuselage, landing lightly on the hangar deck.

Chewbacca lingered nearby, of course, tinkering inside one of the Falcon's external system panels. Ren wasn't sure who the Wookie was protecting—Ren, or the Resistance—or how far the Solo life debt stretched. Apparently far enough that Chewie was never far out of range, bowcaster slung over his shoulder. Watching.

But it wasn't Chewbacca's eyes boring a hole into the back of Ren's neck as he shut down his simulator. He sensed the cocky flyboy's distrust and simmering hatred long before Poe Dameron crossed the hangar. The stocky man wore a blaster pistol at his hip, its belt and holster at odds with the orange flight suit. That blasted BB-8 droid followed at his heels.

Ren hated him. Not for the history between them, but because of Dameron's poise, the sense of belonging and command that had been stripped from Ren. Even so, he feigned nonchalance, crossing his arms and leaning casually against the simulator, lightsaber within easy reach.

Dameron's eyes flicked toward the simulator. "I watched your run. It was…" he drew in a breath, exaggerating his consideration of his next words, "impressive how thoroughly you ignored your wing commander."

Neutrality. Civility. Ren could do this. "She was overwhelmed, unwilling to commit. Even so. I took down one of the command ships."

"You're a fair pilot, but part of flying in the fleet means being a member of a team. Conforming to the group. Obeying commands." He stressed those words like he didn't think Ren capable of them. Ren gritted his teeth, reminding himself he had nothing to prove to this man.

"Although," Dameron added, as though an afterthought, "I will admit you pulled off a fancy bit of flying. It was mostly luck that got my missile through your shields."

Of course. Dameron had jumped into another sim to go head-to-head against Ren in that final TIE. Arrogant bastard. Ren suppressed a snarling smile. "Are you talking to me for a reason?"

"The medics tell me that Finn is only in the decent shape he's in because you stabilized him in the field. I wanted to thank you for that. He's still… confused, but getting better."

Surprise rocked him. Before Ren could even begin to form a response to the unexpected acknowledgement, Dameron changed tactics. "Is it true that you're helping Master Skywalker track down Snoke?"

That was one of the last things Ren wanted to think about. He pulled of his flight gloves, shoving them into the helmet before jamming the lot—hard—against Dameron's chest. "You sought me out to gossip?"

He tried to push by Dameron, but the droid cut him off. Ren glared at it, and it drew back with a squeal alarm before surging forward again to block his path.

"No. I've been ordered to give you information," Dameron said, reluctance radiating from him. "You don't want to know what I'd do to you if I had my way."

"Whatever it is, Dameron, I'm sure I've had worse."

Dameron scoffed a bitter laugh. "Doubt it."

Ren sighed, clinging desperately to patience. "What information do you have for me?"

"A transmission. Coordinates, sent to BB-8. I brought them to the General. She and Master Skywalker agreed that you should have it. I don't agree."

"Unfortunately for you, part of flying with the fleet is following orders."

"Yes," Dameron said through gritted teeth. "Show him, BB-8."

An upper compartment on the droid's carapace opened, revealing a tiny data chip. Ren lifted it from the droid with the Force, letting it hover in the air before him. A transmission? He could count his allies on one fist. Who would—

His gut tightened as a jolt of awareness sizzled through him. One person. There was only one person who might pass him a message. Coordinates. He snatched the chip from the air.

"Am I making a mistake in giving you this?" Dameron asked softly, brow wrinkling as he studied Ren's covetous reaction.

"No," Ren said, smiling for what felt like the first time since that disastrous day three weeks ago when everything fell apart. "But I do need a ship."

Rey couldn't sleep—not an uncommon occurrence since she'd been off on her own. Alone and, for the first time in years, not required to smooth over her own inner monologue and surging emotions with meditation.

She wasn't sure if Master Skywalker would approve this technique, this embracing of feeling. Echoes sprang up in recurring cycles, the hopelessness and bitterness, mixing with love and belonging in a jumble that had sprung everywhere like loose tools from a spilled toolbox, and now couldn't quite fit neatly back where they'd come from. With time, and energy, she might be able to examine each one, find its place, to put everything back in order.

It would be painful, yes. But it was possible. Doable, even. She'd slipped into the Dark side, if only briefly. She'd reveled in it. She'd given into the urge to hurt, to kill, out of vengeance.

Acknowledging those truths made it easier to prise them apart. Facing them was the first step. Coming to understand them was something else again. Like when she'd dismantled Ren's lightsaber, it wasn't as simple as stripping some burnt-out component from the whole; everything needed to be re-wired. And that took time and concentration and—confidence.

The problem was, half the time she still couldn't believe that this is where she was now. She still couldn't guess the repercussions yet to come. It terrified her. Which really meant: she was terrified of herself.

So she didn't fight it when the lonely, quiet depths of night spooled up her mind like an engine tired of its idle. She rolled out of the low survival tent she'd erected just out of sight of her ship, on a rocky lakeshore nestled into a mountain range so isolated she could truly believe she was the only sentient biped on the entire planet. The vibrant wash of stars above and the planet's low moon lit the way to an outcropping overlooking the dark, still lake.

A chill permeated the thermal layers of her jumpsuit, biting enough on her bare hands and face to prove that this climb, at least, was real, not an obscure nightmare. Every bracing lungful of air, her breath misting on the thin air, confirmed that she was truly alive. Her heart drummed against her ribcage and roared in her ears as she ran right up to the ledge of the cliff, yet even with vertigo swirling in her stomach it was hard to convince herself that she was here.

Even so, a vague sense of nausea told her that maybe here wasn't the right place for her to be.

There was something calming about sprawling on her back to watch the unknown constellations spin overhead in a clear night sky. Anchoring, like she could feel gravity pushing her against the cold rock—but if she closed her eyes, she might feel herself slipping from the planet's rotation, losing her grasp just enough to fall into nothingness—

A meteorite streaked across the sky, drawing Rey's gaze. Then the light stilled, grew larger, split into the floodlights of a small spaceship slinking into the atmosphere. A tarnished gray scout ship skimmed the jungle treetops, disturbing a flock of indigenous Qom Qae nesting in the arms of the nearby mountain valley. Rey sensed the alarm of the large, leathery-skinned, batlike creatures as they fluttered by, their wingbeats buffeting her in her perch.

Rey didn't fault them for their agitation. Though the creatures were intelligent—and possibly even Force-sensitive, the way they pulled her subconscious awareness—this ship was the first sign of truly civilized life she'd seen since landing on this planet.

Rey found herself smiling as the starship circled her camp and landed just beyond her own transport, and lifted a hand to hail the pilot as a dash of moonlight reflected off the cockpit viewport. She'd only sent her location two days prior. It had been hard, keying her coordinates into the private long-range comm Poe had given her. He hadn't wasted anytime in coming to rendezvous.

She scrambled down the rock face, a thrill of anticipation gathering in her gut at the prospect of returning to face those she'd disappointed. Yet she'd grown enough these past days not to suppress the honesty of her feelings, or the intuition telling her she couldn't hide out here any longer.

The engines wheezed to silence a moment before the gangplank dropped. The hatch unsealed, spilling a cool blue light across the fog gathering on the stony lakeshore.

"Did you have a little trouble finding this planet, BB-8?" she asked, half-expecting the little droid to greet her with a blast of consternation. Nirauan's location existed on charts so old their data files were half-corrupted, listing only a name and hardly anything more. "I knew you could—"

Rey froze as the round hatch slid fully open. Kylo Ren stood framed within it, straightening to his full height, meeting her astonishment stare-for-stare as he unveiled his presence in the Force. It washed over her, so familiar and yet so missed that tears sprang to her eyes. She barely noticed the nondescript, casual cut of his brown tunic and dark trousers, the scuffed boots, and the blaster belt slung at an angle across his hips as though he'd just stepped out of a back-alley deal behind a back-alley cantina. His lightsaber hung at that belt, but no other insignia hinted where his allegiances might lay—if he'd even declared any.

Heat—that undeniable attraction—fluttered in her stomach as his gaze met hers, stealing her breath. "Ren?"

As though that one wonderfilled word had summoned him, Ren strode down the gangplank. "Rey," he said, her name like a blessing on his lips as he wrapped her into his arms. His solid warmth comforted her as they spun in embrace, the fog shifting beneath their dancing feet. He was here. Somehow, he was really here.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she murmured, pressing her face to his chest because she couldn't bear to meet his eyes, and face whatever shadows she might have put there.

He kissed her hair, holding her tightly. "I know. I am too."

After a long moment where they simply breathed, holding each other, Rey dared to steal a glance at his face. "How did you find me?"

Something between a smirk and a frown crossed his face, making him look very much like Han Solo. Another pang of regret struck Rey for all that had been done to Ren, and all that had been wrought because of it. But his voice was calm and grounded as he answered: "You sent Dameron your coordinates. He gave them to the higher-ups. They gave them to me."

The higher ups. That meant General Organa—perhaps even Master Skywalker. It couldn't mean—"You're working with the Resistance?"

"There have been… overtures. Requests for me to trade information and instinct for… I don't know." He shrugged, glanced over her shoulder into the middle distance as though searching for the answers within himself. "To end Hux. To figure out where Snoke came from." Abruptly, his gaze snapped back to her. "Does that make me a traitor?"

"If you consider yourself an ally to the First Order still—"

"No."

Rey blinked, surprised how how vehement that one word had been. "—then, no."

He considered her for a moment, reached for something that had been hidden against the small of his back. "Skywalker wanted me to give this to you."

Her lightsaber.

That he'd offer it to her so casually after she'd tried to kill him with it astounded her. Dazed, she lifted it from his hands, her fingers brushing his.

She'd written speeches in her head, practicing what she would tell him if he consented to speak to her again, wording an apology to convey her sorrow over what had happened, what Snoke had done to her—and him. She still wasn't sure if either of them was worthy of forgiveness, after what he'd done—after what had happened.

It had taken until this moment to realize that those words were pointless. He already understood whatever it was she'd say. Because he'd lived it.

He cleared his throat, breaking the long silence. "I refitted the core for you. The kyber crystal," he said, as though she might possibly forget that she'd ripped it from the weapon to aid in his healing trance. "I—you did well, choosing to use it. The blade should be fully functional, but you should test it to be sure."

She nodded, unable to do anything but clip the blade to her belt where it belonged. Despite what she'd done, he hadn't run. He knew what she was capable of, and still he'd sought her out.

All that time and energy she'd spent waiting. Not just here, on this planet, but alone on Jakku. Hoping for her family, for people who cared about her and knew where she came from. They might still be out there, whoever they were. She might still be able to find them. One day. Ren—and Finn and Poe—they weren't blood kin. But bloodlines weren't everything that created a family.

She grabbed his collar, pulling herself to tiptoe to press a light kiss against his lips. A kiss that promised more. So much more.

She blinked back tears, voice crumbling as she said, "I'm glad you came. I—I've been waiting for you. For so long."

His dark eyes glimmered knowingly at her as he grinned, then challenged her with a kiss so deep it left her wanting.

"I know."

Kylo Ren felt weightless.

The cool depths of the lake cradled him. He swam harder, reveling in the strength and ability of his finally-recovered body as he skimmed the rocky lake bottom. He followed the gentle ascent of the lakebed toward the shore, flexing the fingers of his left hand and moving the shoulder in its socket just to test that he still could. Healing the limb had been such a near thing, a delicate balance of bacta and surgery and patience. Now he used it to slice through the water, angling toward the sun-warmed shallows. Pools of fish darted around him, scales flashing, then came together again as he passed, leaving no mark behind him.

Utterly calm.

It was all a facade. All of it, from the supposed order of the First Order military hierarchy he'd risen through for half is life, to his pursuit to tame the galaxy's chaos. The bitter truth still gnawed at him, that chaos couldn't be tamed; life couldn't be white or black, Light or Dark. Just as he no longer belonged to the First Order and Snoke and the Sith… he didn't belong to the Resistance either.

And he definitely didn't belong to the Light side.

He breached the surface of the lake, wiping streaming water from his face. The cool, mountain-crisp air, thin at this elevation, puckered his bare skin. His clothes lay in a pile just inside his ship's gangplank, left to lie where Rey had flung them during their overdue reunion earlier that morning.

Rey floated near the shore, breathing carefully to maintain her buoyancy. The sun's intensity bronzed her skin. Its rays glimmered, catching in the rippling water sluicing over her body from the wake of his movements.

She smiled as she felt his approach, but didn't open her eyes.

"You said you taught yourself how to swim. Floating," he said, running a hand over her forehead and back through her hair, a gentle reminder to keep her head low in the water to improve her form, "isn't swimming."

"I know, but it's the opposite of sinking." She laughed, the muscles of her stomach tightening, then let out a slow breath, trying to focus. "You're distracting me."

He crouched, letting the water come up to his nose to hide his smile and block his body from the wind as she re-centered herself. Desire thrummed at him; it would be so simple to run his hands over her skin, to enjoy the curves and planes of her body, to let his fingers find that place between her legs that she enjoyed, to bury himself in her. But physical pleasure could wait, for a time. He reached out with the Force, meeting her presence like coming home. "Keep breathing. Stay focused."

She slipped into an almost meditative state, her face and body relaxing. They hadn't spoken directly about what had happened with Snoke—not yet. He could sense it lurking in her mind, wrapped in a tangled knot of emotion that would take some time to undo. He didn't probe, didn't prod, but after a moment he realized that she'd opened her eyes, that she was studying his face as intensely as he was studying her.

She smiled, sad, as though she already knew the answer even as she asked, "What are you thinking about?"

"You," he admitted, plucking two stones from the lake shore with the Force. He let them circle on another, then added a third and a fourth stone to the exercise as he asked, "Are you alright?"

"No," she said, matter-of-fact. "But I will be." She glanced over at him, the movement jarring her buoyancy. "And so will you."

A rush of indecipherable feeling surged through him, so strong he let the stones tumble from the air. Weakness, of whatever form, was not something Ren was in the habit of admitting to, much less accepting within himself. No, he didn't know where he belonged in the grand scheme of the galaxy—or even of the Force. He wasn't sure if he could ever make up for the things he'd done, or how long Snoke's false words would echo in his mind. That Rey recognized that—and accepted it—and still saw hope for him—

Ren caught her arm, and pulled her through the water until he cradled her against his chest. Her naked skin burned against his as he kissed her. Though the lake re-settled around them, the fever growing between them was far from stilling, far from ever being sated. He couldn't imagine ever growing tired of the way they found one another and filled one another, the way they merged now both in body and in the Force, the indescribable bond tightening so powerfully between them that it could wreck them both—or save them.

Flocks of oversized featherless bats wheeled in chittering circles over the lake, their only audience as the sun arched high overhead, so bright that Ren could believe that the shadows had finally gone.

They lay on the shore, drowsy in the fading evening warmth. Yet even with her eyes closed, Rey noticed the dimming of the sun. Tensing, she glanced toward the sunset.

It was only a band of clouds drifting through the sky, momentarily blotting out the light. But for an adrenaline-spiked instant, she'd been certain it was Starkiller, priming itself for destruction powerful enough to split the sky and drain a star.

She shivered. Hux and quintessence and his deadly machinations were still out there, as was Snoke. The Resistance was waiting… but it couldn't wait forever.

The sun slipped below the horizon, the onset of darkness catching Rey by surprise. "We should get ready to leave."

She eased herself out of Ren's arms, but took his face in her hands, tracing her thumbs over his eyelids, her fingertips over the scar on his cheek. "I want to be clear. Even if you don't join the Resistance, I will still love you," she said, so quiet that the lapping of the lake could have swallowed her words. She knew he was listening. "And even if you don't join the Resistance, I'm going back to them."

"And to Skywalker?" Though his voice caught on the question, he didn't sound angry. He hadn't even opened his eyes. But his voice was far too mild to be truly calm.

"Second chances, Ren. I'm the last person to deserve one, but he's offering it. He deserves another chance. And so do you."

"They'll never accept me."

"It will take time. It won't be simple, or easy." She gripped his shoulders, forcing him to meet her eyes. "You're the bravest, most determined person I know, and if they don't see that—"

"You're panicking. Don't," he said, reading her with infuriating ease like he always did. He cupped her face with a scarred hand. "I don't care if they see it or not. I don't do what I do for them, and I'm not going anywhere. The rest—we'll take it day by day."

They stood, searching for the clothes and lightsabers they'd left scattered on his ship. The flock of Qom Que drawing Rey's senses skimmed low over the lake, finishing one last hunt before heading to their roosts for the evening. The flock turned, descending over the camp like carrion eaters spotting a carcass. Ren tensed, but Rey caught his arm, twining her fingers through his to keep him still.

"They're Force-sensitive," she whispered. "Can you feel it? Just wait."

As one, the group of winged creatures gripped Rey's starfighter with their talons. Beating wings slowly lifted the spacecraft to the tops of the trees, then painstakingly carried the vessel over the lake.

And dropped it.

She gasped. "That's—Master Skywalker's ship!" Rey said, too stunned to move as water bubbled and surged around the vessel. It slipped from sight as something—something—kept her from trying to pull it back, as though the Qom Que were playing a trick on her. All but one of the larger avians winged away. It pirouetted in the air before them, twisting in a graceful bow before following the others.

Ren scoffed a laugh. "Could you hear that? Many vines woven together are stronger than the same number of vines separately. That's what it said to me."

"Very wise," she said dryly. "But they didn't have to wreck the ship to convince us to stick together." She grinned, remembering that rope of light binding them. An impression of peace settled over her, like the cusp of a vision except this time she was the one stirring prophecy, willing it to happen. They would face whatever the galaxy threw at them. And the Force would be with them.

Always.

The End

(...for now)

"Many vines woven together are stronger than the same number of vines separately." — Timothy Zahn, Vision of the Future (Hand of Thrawn novels)

Author's note: *loves you all*