14. Lost and Found, Part 2

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Rey fights boredom cooped up in a room on the Supremacy II.

Rey scoots closer to the door, pressing her ear against it.

Her right leg is stretched out in front of her, still aching from her wound, and her left is tucked in her chest.

She reaches out through the Force, listening. The foot traffic on this part of the dreadnought is fairly light, but she hears people pass by every few minutes or so. Many are silent but sometimes they're talking, like now. She's just starting to make out their words…

"Oh no!" The woman is saying. "Don't tell me you go there. Really?"

"Yes, really," another woman responds. "Is that bad?"

The first woman scoffs.

"You sad, silly thing. You don't know anything, do you? Well, don't you worry. Now that you're with Unit 1027, you'll know all the Supremacy's secrets. And here's the first one." The woman lowers her voice. "When the supplies arrive, the best stuff gets sent straight to the top— the generals and their whole staff. Then to the admirals, then to the sciences, then to engineering, etcetera."

"Ah." Rey pictures the second woman nodding.

"Well," the first woman continues, "This means the closer the commissary is to the top, the fresher the food will be. That's why you should always go to the highest commissary you have access to."

"It makes perfect sense." The second woman says this like a revelation. "I can't believe I never thought of it before."

"And you've probably been eating rotten vegetables this whole time…"

Rey rolls her eyes, leaning away from the door just as the two women pass.

Wonderful. Another conversation about food.

When she first started eavesdropping a couple days ago, she was excited about what she might learn, maybe something useful to the Resistance? But she soon discovered that not only would she be unlikely to hear anything useful, she'd also be unlikely to hear anything interesting. The people on this ship talk about the most mundane things— the increased availability of Gapanga fruit, irregular sleep patterns, interpersonal squabbles, so and so forth.

They're not exactly how Rey envisioned members of the First Order. Before now, she'd pictured a vague mass in uniforms— villainous generals, brainwashed Stormtroopers, black-clad workers too selfish to care about what they're a part of

Now, she realizes that most of them are just people, regular people similar to those she knows in the Resistance. Their cares, their worries, their pleasures are very much the same. They want to eat well, rest well, and get along with those around them.

Rey sighs, leaning back against the wall.

Maybe one day, far in the future, the people in this galaxy will realize they're all ultimately on the same side.

She reflects on this thought for a few minutes, on whether or not the galaxy will ever know true peace…

Suddenly, she sits up, pressing her ear to the door. Others are approaching, two men talking in low voices. She reaches out through the Force senses to make out their words.

"I don't believe it. I just don't believe it," one man is saying.

"It's true," another man assures smugly. "This is what you miss when you're off ship."

The first man groans like he's disappointed. "How many saw it?" He asks eagerly.

"Practically everyone in sector twelve," the second man answers. "And before that, he'd gone all the way to one of the loading decks."

"The loading decks!?" The first man sounds incredulous. "Even I've never been down there!"

The second man chuckles. "Apparently, he plucked her from one of the freighters and brought her straight to med-bay. A friend in engineering saw the whole thing."

"So, who is she?" The first man asks eagerly. "Does anyone know?"

"Well," the second man begins.

But suddenly, he stops, making a shushing noise as he and his comrade draw closer to her door. A pair of footsteps pass by in silence.

Rey listens as the footsteps get farther, her ear still pressed to the door.

Finally, the second man continues.

"This isn't confirmed, just a rumor, but I heard just this morning that she was once a prisoner of ours."

"Really?" The first man goads. "What kind of prisoner?"

"Now that I don't know, but…" The second man's voice grows too distant to hear even with her Force senses.

Rey leans away from the door, resting back against the wall.

That's not the first conversation like that she's heard. Apparently, she's the talk of the dreadnought…

She sighs, folding her arms and slouching.

It's been three days, but she hasn't seen him since he dropped her off at the med-bay. She feels his presence on the ship, of course. And he walks by her room several times during the day and always at night when he returns to his quarters, but he hasn't spoken to her or even come to see her.

Though she did have a dream about him the first night she was here.

She'd been poked and prodded by the medical team, her wounds treated and wrapped with bacta bandages. They'd given her some sort of pain medication, so she was completely out of sorts when they transported her here and placed her on the bed. She just lied there, semi-conscious, drifting in and out of a restless sleep.

Somewhere in that time, she dreamed he was in the room, sitting in a chair across from her, just watching. It was almost like he was guarding her. Then, he got up and walked to her. He knelt next to the bed, reaching out to stroke her hair back with a gloved hand. He gazed at her softly for a moment, then leaned in to kiss her forehead. His lips lingered on her skin before he pulled away, standing and swiftly turning to exit the room.

Strange… She has no idea why her sleeping mind would have invented such a thing. Part of her wonders…

She bites her lip.

The truth is she's grateful for what he did. If he bothered to come see her, she'd tell him that. She was too proud and adrenaline-charged to admit it at the time, but she never would have made it off this ship alive, not in the state she was in.

So, that's twice now he's saved her life. No, three times.

She sighs, tightening her arms around her.

Yes, she's grateful for what he did. But if he thinks he can keep her locked in this room forever…

She narrows her eyes, thinking. She sits up, leaning over to inspect the wound in her thigh. She wraps her fingers around it, feeling thick bacta bandages under her pants, giving a little squeeze. She winces slightly.

It still hurts a bit, but it's much better. She can walk on it now, though she's a little wobbly. Judging by the progress over the past three days, she should be able to walk like normal by tomorrow, the next day at the latest. That's when she'll start trying out escape plans.

It will be tricky. The door to this room only opens once a day when a medical droid comes in to inspect and redress her wounds. Other than that, the door stays firmly shut and locked. It doesn't even open when a droid comes by to deliver her meals. The trey just slides through a small opening that's otherwise sealed shut.

She can't mind trick a droid, but she's worked on fixing enough of them that maybe she can figure out a way to cause a malfunction. She'll figure something out. She always does…

Suddenly, a warm feeling rises within.

He's coming this way. She senses him getting closer. Of course, that doesn't mean anything. He's already passed her room twice this morning and once in the afternoon. She presses her ear to the door.

Yes, that's definitely him. His stride is very distinct, different from everyone else's. There's a rhythm to it, swift and purposeful …

To her surprise, she hears him start to slow. Then, he halts in front of the door.

Uh oh.

She instantly scrambles, backing away to the washing station, the closest thing she can use to pull up from the floor.

She hears him unclick his mask, then start to enter a code on the keypad.

She's next to station now, grabbing the edge of it and starting to rise.

The door whirs open.

She freezes.

He stands tall in the doorway, his mask tucked in the crook of his arm.

"What are you doing?" He cocks his head.

For a second, she's perfectly still. Then, she grips the side of the washing station, continuing to pull herself up.

"I'm washing up, obviously." She affects irritation.

He steps into the room, leaning over to grip her arm gently, helping her to her feet.

"On the floor?" His lips tease up.

She looks at him, opening her mouth to say something but nothing comes out. He's staring at her, a smile in his black eyes. Finally, she sighs, dropping her shoulders.

"I was listening to people at the door," she admits begrudgingly, turning to walk to the bed with a wobble. "I'm bored out of my mind in here." She plops onto the mattress, her legs dangling over the edge.

"Hear anything interesting?" He walks to a desk across the room, placing his mask on top of it.

"No." She grunts. "The people on this ship are profoundly boring. All they talk about is food, sleep, and gossip. Though, I think I heard General Hux blathering about the military merit of blockades."

He rolls his eyes as he scoots a chair by the desk to face her. He lowers onto it, leaning over to rest his forearms on his knees, looking down and not at her.

A minute of silence passes. Rey shifts on the bed, folding her good leg up, a heel on the edge of the mattress.

"How's your leg?" He breaks the silence.

"Good." She nods. "The bacta bandages here are much better than ours. I expect I'll be good as new by this time tomorrow."

He looks up for a quick nod then looks down again. The room falls quiet. Another minute passes in silence.

Rey presses her lips together. Then, she takes a breath.

"Thank you," she says softly.

His eyes snap to hers.

"Thank you for…" Her voice trails off. "Keeping me alive."

He shakes his head. She senses irritation but also tenderness. He stares at her a moment before sitting up with a forced exhale.

"You realize it was sheer luck that you ended up here and not on a number of other dreadnaughts, don't you?" He crosses his arms.

She looks away, letting her good leg fall over the bed.

"You would've been ingloriously executed by a supply worker," he reprimands. "It's miracle you made it out of the facility alive in the first place."

She hardens, eyes on the door.

"Tell me, Rey..." He darkens, leaning forward.

She looks at him and is met by piercing black eyes.

"What about a few scraps of technology is worth risking your life?"

Rey stares at him stiffly, her jaw set. After a moment, she straightens, making herself tall.

"Poe says wars can be won or lost because of differences in technology." She juts her chin up. "He said we needed to understand yours in order to beat you."

"Who the hell is Poe?" Ben spits, a strange kind of fire in his eyes.

"My commanding officer." She shrugs.

"And you let him lead you into this idiocy."

"He made good points," Rey shoots back. "Like that we need to know how well our receptors pick up the approach of your ships." She leans forward. "Or if our scanners will pick up your trackers." She catches the subtlest flinch.

Rey sucks in a breath.

She's scanned for a tracker on the Falcon a thousand times and found nothing, but that doesn't mean one isn't there. And after the monsoon on Dorajan, she can't kick the feeling that something is there…

It's not how he reacted when she asked how he knew what planet she was on. It's the way he smoothly avoided her question when she asked him about the tracker directly. She's getting to know him, and that's exactly the kind of thing he does when she's getting too close to something he doesn't want her to see.

"Did you put a tracker on the Falcon?" She asks abruptly.

"Rey." He bristles. "Don't change the subject. Nothing detracts from the fact that you risked your life for some fool's suicide mission."

"No." She pushes from the bed, taking a few wobbly steps. "This time you're going to answer my question."

He shoots up, hurrying to meet her.

"Rey, sit dow—"

"Don't tell me what to do." She sticks a finger in his face. "Just answer the question. Did you put a tracker on my ship?"

He looks away, twitching. "You're just deflecting."

"Well, I learned it from the best," she quips snidely. "Besides, the truth is I volunteered for the mission because I wanted to know if there was a tracker on my ship once and for all. So, you can either tell me now, or I can sneak into another First Order facility." She cocks her head.

He stares at her, a coldness over his face like a mask.

"Did you put a tracker on my ship?" She enunciates each word.

He doesn't answer, not immediately. He just stares, black eyes hard as armor. She holds his gaze, sensing his emotions, the tug of an inward battle.

Suddenly, he turns, taking a few steps to the door. He halts, shoulders rigid.

"Yes," he answers finally.

Rey flares her eyes, vindicated but furious.

"I can't believe you," she spits, her blood quickening in her veins.

But rage soon gives way to other emotions as she resisters the implications of this. Everywhere she's been, all of the bases, the recruiter rescues, everywhere… She brings a palm to her forehead, suddenly lightheaded.

"I've put my friends in danger," she whispers.

"Rey." Ben turns, stepping towards her. "Your friends aren't in danger. Sit down." He reaches for her shoulder.

"Don't touch me." She jerks away.

His eyes flicker. She feels the emotion as well as she sees it, a pang of hurt. She softens in spite of herself

She looks away, hobbling to the bed and taking a seat. To her surprise, he follows, settling just beside her.

She crosses her arms tightly, staring down as she chews through her worries, everything he could do with data collected from a tracker.

"Rey…" Ben starts quietly. "I meant it when I said I don't need a tracker to know what the Resistance is up to. We have all kinds of ways of gathering intel. If I wanted to, I could blast all your bases to ash."

"Then, why aren't you?" She snaps up.

"Because I don't need to." He leans in. "Those bases are and will continue to be pathetic fragments of a lost cause. I don't need to destroy the Resistance because precious few in this galaxy will feel compelled to join any Resistance under my order."

"You're wrong." She uncrosses her arms. "Our numbers have been growing."

"Have they now?" He cocks his head. "Are they anywhere close to what they were before?" He raises an eyebrow.

She glares at him.

"That's what I thought." He straightens. "And they never will be again, not under my rule, because I will bring true order to this galaxy the likes of which the it's never seen before. Better trade, less lawlessness—"

"And you think people are just going to forget how that order was achieved?" Rey balks. "You think they'll just forget the destruction of the New Republic, the entire Hosnian System!?"

He shoots from the bed, walking away. He stops after a few steps, his back to her.

"Years from now…" He begins quietly, "People will look back and see that the end justified the means, that destruction was worth it to create a new order, a better one."

"You can't possibly believe that." Rey shakes her head.

He doesn't turn.

She studies him, gaping, searching his emotions, looking for some sliver of doubt or shame, anything to indicate that part of him knows he's wrong.

But all she senses is quiet determination.

Her heart drops.

He believes every word he just said. Firmly.

But how? How could he believe such a thing? What lies does he tell himself that he's so blind to what the First Order has done, what he has done?

Her mind is racing, picking apart his logic, searching for a way to get him to see the truth— that the end doesn't justify the means because the means define the end. An order built through bloodshed will have to be maintained that way. Certainly, he must understand this…

Rey stares at the floor, eyebrows furrowed, the room silent as she works through her thoughts.

"You're leaving tonight."

She snaps up at his voice.

"That's what I came here to tell you." Ben turns to face her. "A medical droid will come by in three hours to put you to sleep and bring you to the transport."

"Put me to sleep?" She jerks back. "Why?"

"It's a medical transport, Rey," he says dryly. "All the patients are put to sleep for travel. Besides, I don't want you getting into any more trouble with First Order property."

She rolls her eyes.

"Where is it taking me?"

"To Cloud City in Bespin. When you arrive, you'll be provided with a commlink, water, and several portions."

She nods, already thinking of Poe and the others. They probably think she's dead, and she's anxious to let them know otherwise.

"And the tracker?" She crosses her arms. "What about that?" She glares at him.

He stares evenly for a moment.

Then he turns, striding to the desk.

"You'll be given a device." He sweeps his mask up. "It will only work once. Use it on the ship and it will send out a signal that destroys the tracker."

She scoffs.

"And I'm just supposed to trust you?"

He whips around.

"Why don't you come into my mind and see for yourself?" He squints at her.

She studies him, those black eyes beckoning her to call his bluff. She rises slowly from the bed, never looking away from him. She walks forward, stopping just a foot away.

For a moment, they stare at each other.

Then, she pushes into his mind.

He tenses but doesn't fight her. She doesn't push far, just to the edge of his consciousness, enough to see that he's telling the truth.

She withdraws, and his shoulders relax.

"Tell me one more thing." She tilts her chin up.

He looks down at her, guarded.

"Why let me go? I'm a criminal by your standards, am I not?" She raises an eyebrow. "So, why not keep me prisoner?"

He grunts softly.

Then he steps in, so close she can feel his body heat. He leans down, black eyes on hers.

"If you ever stay on this ship…" His voice his quiet. "It will be on your own free will." He lingers with a strange sort of glimmer, like he knows something she doesn't. He pulls away slowly, straightening and squaring his shoulders. He stares down at her a moment.

Then, he turns, walking to the door. He stops in front of it, bringing his mask overhead and clicking it into place, then slaps a panel, striding out of the room the moment the door whirs open. He doesn't look back, turning sharply down the hall. The door shuts behind him and she can hear the click of his boots, that distinctive stride, grow fainter and fainter.

Rey stares at the door, frozen in place. She feels numb, disconnected from her own body. She turns and moves to the bed, lowering on to it absently. She presses her palms to the mattress, staring into space.

After a minute, she brings her legs up, lying back and curling to one side. She brings a thumb to her lower lip, grazing it lightly.

"Years from now…" She hears his voice in her mind. "People will look back and see that the end justified the means."

She scoffs, shaking her head. She thinks about him, the way he felt when he said he words, how he put a tracker on her ship.

She tenses angrily.

She needed to see this. It was important for her to see this. She needed to see that she has her work cut out for her…

She rolls on her back, laying her palms flat on her belly and staring at the ceiling.

Since she figured out the purpose of the bond, she's grown more and more sure that she's right, that Ben Solo will turn.

But today reminded her that this won't be easy. He's still drowning in rationalizations, his mind twisted from years ensconced in First Order culture and ideology. Ben Solo may be in there, but Kylo Ren is too, and that's the man he chooses to be every day.

She sets her jaw.

Yes, turning Ben Solo will be a process alright, a long and painful one.

She pushes out an exhale, rolling to her side.

He thinks the Resistance will just die away, that the galaxy will forget everything the First Order's done? What a fool.

He says he wants to bring true order to the galaxy, whatever that means, but is that really the First Order wants, why he wants?

No. He doesn't seek order; he seeks power. That's what this is really about. He tells himself he's doing it for the good of galaxy, but really it's about himself, about being in control. Surely a part of him knows this…

She presses her lips together.

There is a part of him that knows this, the part she saw when he let her into his mind, into his heart, to see how he felt about his father. She remembers his self-loathing, how he hates everything he's become.

And she remembers that moment on Starkiller, how he almost took his father's hand but didn't because he'd come too far. She can't imagine how hard it must be for him to face that truth, that every shameful thing he's done— all the destruction, all the innocent lives— was in service to a lie.

Of course he still tells himself it was for the good of the galaxy. What's the alternative? Admitting his entire adult life was a disaster, that he turned himself into a monster for nothing?

She sighs, shifting on the bed.

She can understand why it's difficult for him do that, but he must do it, he must see…

A part of him wants to, or at least a part of him wants to become something else, something he can be proud of. There've been some encouraging signs…

Like when she heard that he ordered the rebuilding of the Temple of Ashaii on Lonera. "Build things," she'd told him. And that's exactly what he did, just like Ben Solo would, the part of him more interested in creation than destruction.

And then there's today when he admitted to putting a tracker on her ship. She's still furious with him but also shocked he told the truth. It's his instinct to conceal things, to deceive, but today he fought that instinct and won.

Then there's the way he behaves towards her. This, more than anything, makes her feel Ben Solo will win out in the end. Killing Snoke instead of her… rescuing her from hypothermia… causing a scandal on the dreadnought to get her medical attention. And it's not just the big things; it's the small things too— teaching her not to be afraid of lightening in a storm, helping her find her crystal…

These are the things that remind her to be patient, to allow the bond to do its work, to seek out more opportunities to remind him of who he really is.

Rey shifts on the bed again, closing her eyes and burying her face in her pillow.

She reflects on these things until she begins to drift, losing herself bit by bit until she's in a deep and dreamless sleep.

The external observation portal is dead quiet except for the footsteps approaching.

An officer halts a few feet behind the Supreme Leader who stands with his back to him, gazing into the expanse of space. It's so empty, nothing but the dull twinkle of stars to interrupt the blackness.

Kylo Ren doesn't turn around. He simply continues staring ahead, hands clasped lightly behind him. He hears the officer clear his throat.

"Sir," the man begins tentatively, "I've come to deliver the report you requested on patient 8097."

"Go on," the distorted voice commands.

The officer takes a breath, straightening.

"She's been put to sleep and placed on a medical transport to Bespin. When she arrives, she'll be provided with everything according to your specifications, including a disabling device." The man pauses.

"And the procedure?" Kylo Ren turns his head.

"It's done, sir." The officer nods. "After she was put to sleep, a nano-tracker was injected between her right shoulder and her neck. Bacta gel was applied immediately after, so there will be no mark. She will be entirely unaware of its presence."

Kylo Ren turns forward. "Review the functions and procedures," he commands.

"Yes, of course." The man reaches for his datapad. "It will track her location and measure her vitals at all times. If her vital signs drop to code yellow, the nearest medical team will be immediately dispatched to her location. If they drop to code orange, the medical team will intervene and provide treatment. Any Stormtrooper or First Order personnel equipped with a scanner will detect her presence during combat and be alerted to her status on the no kill/no injury list—"

"I want the standard penalty for violating this order to be amended," Kylo Ren interrupts.

"Yes, sir." The officer looks up expectantly. "What's the amendment?"

"If a single trooper violates the order, the entire division will be executed."

The officer's jaw drops.

"Th-the whole division, sir?" He stutters.

"You heard me." the Supreme Leader doesn't turn around. "Do it."

"Yes, sir." The officer snaps to attention. "I will do so immediately." The man turns to exit the room.

Kylo Ren continues staring into the expanse of space. As he does, he fights a gnawing in his gut, a vague sense of dread… and guilt.

But he clenches his fists, squelching the feeling.

She left him no choice.

If she's going to insist on putting herself in the line of fire for a fool's mission, the least he can do is make sure she doesn't die doing it.

And it's not just her activities with the Resistance. It's her. She's reckless, too reckless with her own life. He thinks about finding her wet and near freezing to death… all because she ran off to help a boy who she knew could be manipulating her.

He shakes his head, growing more certain that he's done the right thing.

If she refuses to take care of herself, then someone has to. She can't die. He can't let her. It would be irresponsible of him to let her die. She's too important— to the galaxy, to the First Order.

To him.

He needs her. She's destined to be his partner, to rule by his side. He can't let her throw her future away for nothing…

But even as he thinks these things, that vague sense of dread deepens, an unnamed fear too deep and too terrible for him to face.