20. Throne

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Kylo Ren is given conflicting opinions about his Outer Rim invasions.

The throne room is dead quiet.

Kylo Ren sits back, forearms resting lightly on either side of him, fingers curled over the edge of the throne.

He waits, resisting the urge to sigh inside his mask.

Instead, he observes his surroundings, red walls reflecting on the shiny surface of the floor, the long walkway stretching out ahead, the oculus to the left.

The room is an exact replica of Snoke's on Supremacy I, the one he so frequently visited as a supplicant.

But here, he is the sovereign.

He never gets tired of looking at the room from this perspective. Being in this seat, this position… It feels so right, so satisfying. He was born to sit in this chair.

But the truth is, he doesn't spend much time here. He'd go insane if he stayed in this room all day. He prefers to keep moving, to keep the generals and colonels on their toes with the constant threat of his appearance. He finds things get done more efficiently if he makes a point to regularly show up unannounced— to meetings, inspections, training exercises.

He always comes here a once a week, though, more for symbolic reasons than anything else. This room represents his power, his authority, his unquestionable supremacy. It matters that people see him here.

Especially certain people.

As if on cue, the door at the end of the room whirs open and General Hux strides through, his hands clasped behind him. He walks forward, that signature pompous expression coming into view. His nose is turned up so high that Kylo can practically see inside his nostrils.

He halts just a few feet in front of the throne.

Then he just stands there.

Not for long, only for a second or two, but long enough for Kylo to feel his blood begin boil in his veins.

Finally, Hux kneels, resting one arm on his knee and bowing deeply. The gesture appears genuine, but Kylo can sense his resentment, that abrasive grind, rubbing his insides raw. He looks down at the man for a minute, a long minute, giving him some much-needed time on the floor.

"General." He finally speaks in his distorted voice.

Hux rises, his jaw hardened.

"Supreme Leader."

Kylo rolls his eyes inside his mask.

It's been nearly a year and the man still can't manage to utter those words without an undertone of disdain…

He clenches his fists, staring down at that smug, white face. A few seconds pass.

"Don't waste my time, General," Kylo barks.

Hux jumps, startled.

"I assume you have a reason for requesting this meeting beyond the pleasure of my company."

For an instant, the general's face twists into a sneer, but he banishes the look quickly.

"Of course." He turns his nose in the air. "I wanted to speak to you about the Outer Rim invasions."

"What about them?"

"They're going quite well, aren't they?" He tilts his head, smirking. "The Minos Cluster. Salient. Bonadan. And soon Felucia. All firmly under our control. All within the past month. That's much more quickly than our initial estimates." He juts his chin up proudly, as though he were personally responsible for this success.

Kylo grips the edges of the throne.

"General." His voice is clipped. "Tell me you didn't come here to inform me of what I already know."

Hux's eyes flit upwards, then lower, icy blue and cutting.

"No," he says curtly. "I came here to point out that we could be doing more. Obviously, clearing out the Outer Rim rabble is easier than we expected. So why only invade two systems at a time? We have the resources, the manpower." He steps forward, a little fire in his eyes. "We could be invading ten systems."

"We could," Kylo says flatly. "But we're not."

Hux bristles, twitching.

"Why?" He demands. "What possible reason could we have for not utilizing the full extent of our martial capabilities?"

Kylo starts shaking his head before the general finishes.

"So, you still haven't learned your lesson." He sits back on the throne. "How disappointing."

Hux grits his teeth, but says nothing.

"You still think about everything as though warfare were our only concern. To you, we're always at war."

"But we are at war!" The general growls, shooting forward.

"No, we're not." Kylo's voice is detached. "We're helping the governments of Outer Rim systems reestablish the rule of law. It's not war. It's military aid."

Hux scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"Whatever you want to call it, Supreme Leader." His lips twist into a sneer. "Military aid. A martial engagement. Clearing out the garbage. The fact is we're not operating at full capacity. Why drag out these invasions over years when we could finish them in a few mon—"

"The fact," Kylo cuts him off, "that the answer to that question isn't obvious to you is the reason you stillhaven't recovered your demerits since Garos."

Hux sucks in a breath, a blast of rage surging through him.

"You are a short-sighted fool who sees nothing beyond your own nose." Kylo points at him, leaning forward. "You still make decisions as though the First Order were fighting for control over the galaxy. But that war has already been won. Now we have to rule it. And ruling is not the same as warmongering."

"I understand that—"

"No, you don't," Kylo interrupts. "Because if you did, you wouldn't be here whining about the rate of invasion. You would know that though we could pick up our pace, we shouldn't because the campaigns would be less efficient and more likely to cause an uproar throughout the galaxy." He cocks his head, masked face bearing down on the general.

Then he sits back on the throne.

"We must maintain control," he continues evenly. "And to do that, we need compliant and loyal systems, not systems terrified that they're next in a chaotic cluster of invasions that will have disastrous effects on their local economies."

The general's upper lip twitches, that sneer returning.

"Always soconcerned with public opinion, aren't you?" His nostrils flare. "It's enough to make one wonder why we even bothered to destroy the New Republic. What was the point if we govern as they did, letting the cares of little people guide our decisions? If Snoke could see us now, he would roll over—"

Suddenly, Hux croaks, his hands flying to his neck. He desperately fights for air, tugging at his collar. Long seconds pass without precious oxygen, and his face grows increasingly red, his head seeming on the verge of exploding all over the throne room floor.

Finally, Kylo releases his invisible grip and the general falls to his knees, taking a giant gulp of air. Kylo observes coolly as Hux gasps and wheezes on the floor.

"One of these days," the Supreme Leader begins. "You're going to learn that little people are dangerous. Individually, they're nothing. But together? They're the Rebellion that destroyed the Empire. And if we're not careful, they'll be the Resistance that destroys us."

Hux looks up, his face twisted in a look of disgust. He opens his mouth to speak, but Kylo cuts him of.

"Get out," he commands.

The general rises, fists clenched, expression defiant. He starts to speak again.

But before he can get a word out, Kylo casts him across the throne room with a flick of his wrist.

Hux lands just in front of the walkway, skidding halfway across its smooth surface.

"Make me repeat myself, and I'll demote you." Kylo's distorted voice resonates, filling the room.

Hux scrambles from the floor and charges down the walkway, shoulders hunched into his ears. Kylo can practically hear him seething, feel the resentment grinding inside him like bits of glass in his gut. Once he reaches the door, it whirs open and he disappears.

The moment the door closes, Kylo shoots from the throne, grabbing his comm at his side.

"Cancel the rest of my appointments," he growls, walking forward.

"All of them sir?" A response crackles through.

Kylo sucks in a breath.

"If anyone else walks into this room today, they're not walking out," he hisses through gritted teeth.

He doesn't wait for a response, muting the comm and returning it to his belt. He clenches his fists, walking a few steps before reaching up to unclick and pull his mask overhead, then chuck it violently across the room.

He whips around, not even seeing where it lands. He begins manically pacing the area just in front of the throne.

Hux.

That man is a problem.

He wouldn't give a damn about all his pissing and moaning if it weren't for his sway over the other generals. But the reality is that while half of them hate his guts the other half would follow him into an asteroid field. He'll grouse about all of his idiot ideas being ignored and the others will actually listen.

Kylo can't have that. He can't have his generals at war with one another. And he certainly can't have Hux undercutting his authority at every turn.

But he can't get rid of the man either. Not yet, anyways. He's too integral to this organization, too revered as the strong arm of the First Order. Too many people are loyal to him, would even leave with him if he were to be dismissed.

No, Hux must be managed, not discarded.

But how?

Scaling down his authority hasn't worked. The demerits haven't worked. In fact, he's gotten worse. He's openly challenging his decisions in meetings. If he doesn't get his way, he makes sure every leader worth a damn in this organization knows about it. And even though his authority was reduced after Garos, he worms his way around it through the generals who are loyal to him. They do his bidding, practically without question, as though he were Supreme Leader.

Kylo growls, pacing.

Hux is driving him into insanity.

He just wants to take that man's throat, just reach out to grip him with his actual hand, and squeeze, squeeze until his eyes pop out of his sockets and his face—

Suddenly, Kylo halts, his violent fantasy interrupted.

By a familiar feeling in his core.

At first, he's caught off guard, his chest seizing.

But after moment, he bows, closing his eyes and clasping his hands behind him. He focuses on that feeling, warmth gradually rising from within. As he does, his rage abates, like boiling water removed from heat. The closer her presence draws, the more he feels his mind revert to an even base.

Finally, he feels her a few paces to his left. He takes a deep breath, then opens his eyes, turning towards her.

Rey gapes at the surroundings, her emotions darkening into a heavy, sinking feeling.

At first, Kylo's confused.

Is it him? Is she upset with him? Why would she be?

But then the realization hits.

It's the room. And the memory associated with it.

She looks up and around, taking in the scene as though she never expected in a million years to be here again. He feels her wrestle inwardly, her emotions so complex he can't identify all of them.

There's anger. Disappointment.

Also longing. Sadness.

Finally, she turns, her eyes meeting his, lingering for a moment before drifting to the throne behind him. She scans the back of the room, her eyebrows knitting.

"No Praetorian guard?" She looks over at him.

"I don't need one," he answers matter-of-factly.

She doesn't react, just crosses her arms, turning to walk towards the oculus. He watches her as she does, noticing the difference in himself, in the atmosphere, with her here.

It's strange to be with her in this room again. It feels dissonant yet familiar.

Perhaps that's because he imagines being here with her so often. Almost every night, he sees that moment in his mind, the image burned into his memory, her looking up at him with clear brown eyes, tear-stained cheeks…

Except in his version, she always takes his hand. Then he draws her in closer, never taking his eyes off her—

"You don't spend much time here, do you?" Rey interrupts his thoughts, her back to him as she examines the oculus.

"Not really." He walks towards her, stopping just a couple feet away.

"So, why are you here now?" She tightens her arms as she turns to face him.

Kylo doesn't answer immediately. Instead, he studies her.

Something's… off.

She feels more guarded than usual. Maybe it's the throne room? Being here again? He observes her silently, trying to read her.

But she feels closed, armored against entry.

"I make a point to meet certain people here," he finally answers.

"Like who?" She breaks eye contact, stepping around him and walking away. It's almost as if she's uncomfortable standing so close to him…

He turns, eyeing her with suspicion.

"Like General Hux." He stays right where he is, watching her walk further.

"He's not giving you more trouble, is he?" She asks casually, her back still to him.

Kylo grunts.

"Hux is always trouble." He covers his eyes with a palm.

"What is it this time?" Rey turns to face him with a kind of detached interest.

He drops his hand, narrowing his eyes, still trying to read her.

She looks relaxed but she feels on edge, nervous even. He tilts his head, examining her.

"He wants to speed up the rate of Outer Rim invasions." He steps forward.

She immediately steps back even though there's quite a few paces between them.

What is wrong with her?

Surely, it's not just being in this room again. He twitches, considering what might be behind this…

"And what did you say?" She asks, turning and walking slowly towards the throne.

He clasps his hands behind him and steps towards the throne as well, exactly parallel from her.

"I told him no." His senses are heightened, attuned to her inner rhythm, that strange guardedness emanating from her.

"And I take it he didn't like your answer."

"No, he did not." Kylo stops, turning to face her.

She does the same, arms still crossed. They stare at each other with what feels like an unnecessary cavern of space between them.

"What would you have told him?" He nods to her.

She uncrosses her arms and raises her eyebrows, surprised by the question. She looks off thoughtfully, considering her answer, some of that guardedness abating.

"I would have said the same thing." She nods a few times.

"Why?" Kylo turns his chin up, genuinely interested in her rationale. He resists the urge to step towards her, instead standing with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Because…" She chooses her words with care, "If you speed up the invasions, they'll be less efficient and there will be more margin for error. In fact…" Her voice trails off. "You may be going too quickly as it is."

He jerks back.

"What do you mean?" He crosses his arms, wary but intrigued.

Rey takes a step forward.

"I mean," she starts hesitantly. "It would be better if you slowed down enough to exercise some discretion."

"Discretion?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Well…" she draws out the word. She looks down, pausing a moment. Finally, she looks up.

"Take what you did in the Minos Cluster, for example." She squares her shoulders. "Now, I'm not saying you didn't do a good thing," she assures hastily. "Taking down Riker Vos, his whole organization…" Her eyes grow soft. "That was wonderful. They were truly evil. The Minos Cluster, the entire galaxy is safer without them."

He grows warm as Rey looks up at him, welling with admiration.

But the warmth subsides when he sees clouds gather in her eyes.

"But…" He articulates the word, taking a step towards her.

Rey looks down, her shoulders dropping.

"But," she continues quietly. "You began the invasion with a series of aerial assaults, destroying the gang's bases of operation in one fell swoop."

"So?" He shrugs.

"When you did that…" Rey stares at the floor, her emotions deepening into compassion. "You didn't just kill all of Vos's men." She looks up. "You killed all of his slaves too."

He lets out a heavy sigh.

"Those were innocent people." Rey walks towards him, stopping a few feet away. "They didn't deserve to die. It wasn't even their choice to be there."

"I know that." His tone is clipped. "But innocent people always die in war, Rey. That's just the nature of it."

"But they don't have to!" She shoots forward, just under him now. "Whether or not more or less innocent people die in a war is up to those in charge, the decisions that they make, like whether to blast everyone to bits in an aerial assault or go in with ground forces and target selectively."

Kylo rolls his eyes, turning as she finishes. He steps towards the throne, bringing a hand to his jaw. He stares at the floor, deep in thought.

How can he get her to understand the position he's in, the things he has consider in these situations?

He thinks for a minute before snapping up, a memory springing to mind. He turns back to Rey.

"Do you ever have an occasion to speak to my mother?"

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"Uh… y-yes," she stutters. "Sometimes." She looks at him curiously.

"The next time you see her..." He steps forward. "Ask her about the Sallow Men."

"And what will she tell me?" She narrows her eyes.

"The truth, I hope."

"And what's that?" She tilts her head.

Kylo purses his lips.

"When I was a boy and she was a senator…" he steps towards her. "The Sallow Men were one of the worst criminal organizations in the galaxy. They were slavers, ran half the black markets in the Outer Rim, gave the New Republic all kinds of trouble. So, finally, the Senate decided to create a military alliance against them." He halts. "I was on the Senate floor when they were debating about how to begin the attack."

Rey looks at him with intense interest, completely engaged.

"They argued about the very thing you brought up." He steps forward again. "Should they take out all the major bases and kill everyone inside, including the slaves, or should they go in with ground forces and try to spare them?" He stops just a foot in front of her, and she looks up intently, eager for him to finish.

"So?" She raises an eyebrow. "What did the Senate decide?"

He looks down coolly for a moment.

"They decided to go in with ground forces," he informs her. "And do you know what happened?"

She shakes her head.

He leans in, bringing his face closer to hers.

"The Sallow Men used the slaves as human shields," he reveals darkly.

Her eyes widen in horror.

"They forced them to create a perimeter around the bases. By the end of it all, not only did most of the slaves die but considerably more alliance forces died with them."

Rey looks up in utter shock. For a few seconds, she just gapes, horrified. Then she looks away, eyebrows furrowed, desperately trying to process the facts of the story, the implications of it.

He straightens, observing as she processes. At first, she churns with uncertainty and doubt. But after a minute, he feels her harden. She looks back up with a piercing gaze.

"And if I asked you mother for another example," she challenges. "Another time when a similar strategy was used and it saved lives, would she be able to give me one? More than one?" She cocks her head.

Kylo holds in a sigh. Instead of answering, he turns and starts walking towards the throne.

"You know..." Rey follows behind him. "I'm sure that to you, the lives of slaves are nothing. They're just the little people. But even so-called little people matter, Ben."

He halts.

She circles around to plant herself in front of him, eyes fixed on his.

"Do you have any idea how many slaves there are in the galaxy?" She asks pointedly.

He doesn't respond.

"Millions," she intones. "Millions and growing, at an alarming rate, actually. That's a lot of people, Ben." Her tone darkens. "A lot. Much more than any Resistance. Maybe you shouldn't be so careless with their lives. Because one day, they might just notice. And then, well…" She raises an eyebrow.

It takes Kylo a moment, but soon the weight of realization descends upon him, what she's implying. When it hits, he steps around Rey, heading up to the throne, bringing a hand to his jaw.

A slave rebellion.

Now that's an outcome he's never considered before. In all the time he's spent imagining different scenarios, different possible obstacles in consolidating power, he never once considered a slave uprising.

But is it even possible? How could such a scattered lot ever hope to become organized? Surely that kind of large-scale effort would be unlikely. Surely…

Kylo stares down, storming with thought. Without thinking, he turns and sits on the throne, leaning over to rest his forearms on his knees.

He looks up when Rey shifts, taking a seat on a step nearby.

Kylo watches at her, deliberating…

Maybe she's right. Maybe they should start some of the invasions with ground forces.

Some of them. Reserve it for gangs like the Merdos Syndicate? Ones with a particularly nasty reputation. It will certainly give credence to their claim that these invasions are helping the local populations…

But it will drag out the length of the assault significantly. They'll have to stagger the invasions, spend more time planning them. And they'll lose more of their own forces.

He sighs, covering his eyes with a palm.

And if he chooses to go this way, Hux will most definitely stir up more trouble. That alone is enough to make him reconsider…

He wipes his hand over his face, resting his back on the throne. He sighs, shaking his head.

Every now and then, he'd love nothing more than to forget about all of this, forget about being Supreme Leader, forget about obsessively planning for every possible obstacle that lies ahead.

He needs a distraction, just a few measly minutes where his mind is occupied by something, anything, else…

He closes his eyes.

Then suddenly, he opens them, sitting up. He turns to Rey sitting on the bottom step. She's staring at the floor, lost in thought.

"So, what about you?" He asks abruptly.

She sits up, startled, looking over with knitted eyebrows.

"What were you thinking about before the bond this time?"

Her eyes widen and she looks down, a pang of fear in her chest.

Kylo tilts his head, intrigued by this reaction.

"Is that not what we're doing?" He shrugs. "I assumed that's why you were asking me about why I was here." He gestures to the room.

Rey shakes her head violently, eyes fixed on the floor.

"No." Her answer is strangely emphatic. "That's not what I was doing. I was just… curious." She rubs her thumb and index finger together anxiously.

He narrows his eyes.

"It was your idea, you know." He dips his chin. "You're the one who said we should start sharing what we were thinking of just before the bond happens."

Rey shoots to her feet and walks away.

"Well, it was a stupid idea," she snipes, crossing her arms. He feels her grow intensely guarded, armored, like when she first arrived.

Now Kylo's very intrigued.

He studies her, a suspicion brewing in his mind. He rises slowly from the throne, never taking his eyes off Rey. He moves towards her cautiously.

She tenses at his approach.

"I'm not sure it was." He stops behind her. "The more we learn about the trigger, the closer we get to controlling it."

"We can't control it," Rey snaps, twitching. She turns and heads towards the oculus, suddenly eager to create space between them.

"You don't know that." Kylo follows her. "It doesn't hurt to try. And you're the one who's always searching for the bond's purpose. Don't you think this will help you discover it?"

Rey slows, groaning. She halts, drawing her shoulders to her ears.

He pauses just behind her.

"Come on, Rey," he goads. "It's not that hard. Just tell me."

She twitches, irritated.

Then, she whips around.

"You know, you didn't exactly tell me what you were thinking about before bond," she accuses caustically.

"What do you mean?" He flits his head. "The Outer Rim invasions. Hux wanting to speed them up like an idiot."

"And that's all?" She raises an eyebrow.

He stares evenly for a few seconds. Finally, he looks away.

"And…" He tenses. "The fact that I can't seem to keep Hux under control." He clenches his fists, hating the sound of those words uttered out loud.

"Well, fancy that." Rey grunts.

He looks up to find her eying him smugly.

"You've finally found something beyond your control." A smile teases her lips.

He rolls his eyes.

"Fine." He crosses his arms. "Now you know what I was thinking about. Your turn."

She stiffens and turns her back to him. She walks away, frenzied, like she's desperately searching her mind for what to say.

"I was thinking…" She slows, her voice trailing off. "I was thinking about when I healed you in the training room. I was wondering…" She halts. "I was wondering if I could do it again on someone else."

Kylo gapes at Rey.

What a terrible liar.

He doesn't need the bond, hell he doesn't even need to be Force-sensitive, to know that was a lie.

He shakes his head briskly, trying to recover from the shock of it, from the fact that she of all people would tell a bold-faced lie. And considering what it was regarding, he is now madly curious to know the truth.

He observes her for a few moments, then looks down, considering how to approach this. After some thought, he moves towards her, stopping just at her back.

She tenses.

"Rey." He draws out her name. "Are you sure?" His tone is knowing, as though the answer is obvious.

She scoffs, whipping around.

"What? You think I'm lying to you?" She barely conceals a flash of alarm.

"That's exactly what I think."

For a split second, her eyes widen but she soon hardens in defiance.

"Well, you're wrong," she spits, then turns a heel, walking to the oculus.

"I hate to tell you this, Rey."

She slows at the sound of his voice.

"But you are not a good liar. Add that to the fact that I'm Force sensitive and we're bonded…" He grunts, shaking his head. "You can deny it all you want, but I know you're lying."

She halts outright, dropping her shoulders.

He stands where he is, unmoving, just observing, curious to see how she'll respond.

She sighs, her head bowed and her arms crossed. She shifts awkwardly, the manifestation of an inner war… to deny or give in? Finally, she drops her arms at her sides.

"It's just…" She begins, growing nervous, suddenly feeling very exposed. "It's not something easily put into words. I'm not even sure I can put it into words. So, I just… said something else instead."

He regards her softly, sensing her vulnerability, a tender spot.

"Ok," he says quietly, uncrossing his arms. "Would it be easier to show me?"

She turns around, eyebrows knitted. She immediately registers his meaning when she sees his face.

"Oh, no." She bristles at the suggestion. "Definitely not."

He tilts his head.

"Seems like a reasonable alternative to me." He squints, half in challenge, half in suspicion.

"No. Not happening." She shakes her head, then steps to the side, brushing past him.

He pushes out an exhale, annoyed at how quickly she dismisses this idea. How does he get her to reconsider...?

Then, suddenly, it hits him. Something he'd forgotten about. But now is the perfect time to remember.

He turns around slyly as Rey walks away.

"I'm calling in my favor," he announces.

She halts, twisting to face him.

"What favor?" She demands.

"Remember the conditions you agreed to? When I let you into my mind to see…" He gulps, fighting the sudden tightness in his throat.

Rey's eyes widen in recognition. They drop to the floor a moment later when she realizes what this means, the favor he's asking. She grows uneasy, furrowing her eyebrows and staring down.

"But—" She stops, not knowing where to go.

"But what?" He raises an eyebrow. "It's not comparable?"

She glances up, her lips straightening into a thin line. She opens her mouth to speak, but still has nothing to say. She looks down again, tightening her arms around herself.

"It's perfectly comparable." He steps towards her. "You have something, something that was on your mind when the bond brought us together, that you can't articulate. So, you let me inside your head. It's the exact same situation, just reversed."

Her shoulders sink as he approaches, weighed down by the miserable acceptance that he's right.

"Perfectly comparable." He stops just a foot in front of her.

She's stiff, hunching and drawing herself in, trying to make herself small, as if she could somehow disappear into thin air.

"Come on, Rey," he goads softly. "All the same conditions apply. I'll stay on task, it will only be a minute, and we won't talk about it afterwards."

She sighs, her eyes fixed on the floor, self-conscious and deeply reluctant.

"What was it you told me?" He tilts his head. "All you have to do is stand there and think."

She groans at hearing her own words reflected back at her.

"What do you say?"

She doesn't answer him. She just stands, tense and perfectly still. A minute passes in silence and he feels her vulnerability deepen into something else.

Fear.

She's scared. Very scared. There's something about the prospect of doing this that she finds utterly terrifying.

As Rey stares at the floor, holding onto herself for dear life, Kylo feels a wave of compassion overtake him.

He is dying to know what she's hiding from him.

But… he's not willing to put her through this to find out.

"Rey," he says gently, reaching out to rest a hand on her shoulder.

She jerks back the moment he touches her, jumping out of her skin.

He instantly withdraws and takes a step back, confused and not a little hurt by her reaction. She still refuses to look at him.

"Forget about it," he says in a low voice. "If makes you feel like this, then I don't want to know." He lingers for a moment, baffled by her behavior. Then he turns, churning with a mixture of disappointment, tenderness, and concern.

The throne room is silent except for the click of his boots as he strides away.

"Do it."

He halts at the sound of Rey's voice. He turns to see her approaching swiftly, urgent and resolved.

"Do it," she repeats, stopping in front of him. "Get it over with. Come on." She gestures towards herself impatiently.

"Are you sure?" He knits his eyebrows, put off by the sudden change.

"Yes-I'm-sure." She says the words so quickly, they jumble together. "Just get on with it. Every second you wait, you make it worse. So, come on." She gestures to herself again, then crosses her arms and braces herself, looking down.

He looks down as she stands, tense and ready. He narrows his eyes, reconsidering whether this is a good idea…

"Come on!" She shouts, snapping up. "What are you waiting for!?"

"Alright, alright," he answers, struggling to adapt to her urgency.

She closes her eyes and looks down.

He crosses his arms and closes his own eyes, then pushes carefully into her mind.

She immediately stiffens, that nervous, exposed feeling returning in a powerful wave.

But she doesn't fight him. Instead, she quickly directs him to his destination, the reason he's here.

She replays the scene in her mind. The training room. Healing him. The images, the emotions flash by…

It looks so different from her perspective, so unfamiliar. It's a strange kind of disassociation, seeing himself through another's eyes.

He wishes he could say he enjoys the view.

But no… He's ashamed by what he sees.

He's yelling at her, eyes cutting, nostrils flared. He's bearing over her, bullying her. Painful jolts of shock and hurt rip through her and he looks pleased with himself, face twisted into a satisfied smirk. Then, there's the blue of the training room floor followed by darkness.

And her emotions, her thoughts overwhelm him, drawing him so deep that he loses himself in her.

She feels so hurt, so lost. Maybe he's right? Maybe she doesn't know what she's talking about. The Force. The Dark Side. The Light Side. She doesn't know what it all means. She doesn't know the history, the practice, the theory. She feels so blind sometimes, like she's crawling through life on her hands and her knees, reaching desperately in the darkness, trying to find her way…

But she knows what she feels in her heart.

And that's what it was. That's what ultimately drove her to extend her hand and do what she did.

She's thought about it a thousand times. How did she do it?

She still has no idea. She didn't act with intention, she acted on instinct, a deep, primal desire, one she wasn't even aware of at the time. It's only now, after hours upon hours of reflection, that she realized what happened was only a shadow, a disappointment.

And now that she's figured it out, what she really wanted to do in that moment, the memory of it breaks her heart.

Because she didn't reach out to heal his shoulder.

She reached out to heal his soul.

She just wanted to reach into him, push past all his anger and resentment and self-loathing, to that brokenness inside him, like the crack in his kyber crystal, and mend it, so deeply, so thoroughly, that there wouldn't even be a scar left.

Then, she would just sit back and watch, watch all of his rage roll back like clouds, dark and stormy billows sweeping away to reveal the sun, everything else he is.

Generous. Protective. Loyal. Kind.

The man who wants to build things. The man who's driven to become a fair and just leader. The man who seeks advice, who's willing to listen, because he wants to become better, smarter, wiser.

The man who wants to be like his father, who can be just as infuriating and lovable as he was, and just as strong. The man who's more like his mother than even he knows— decisive, confident, commanding but also tender and gentle, soft and considerate.

The man who could be so caring, so merciful, so compassionate if only he'd stop trying to kill the best parts of himself.

The man who encourages her, empowers her, makes her feel like she's special, inspires her to push her limits, to challenge herself, to grow.

And it's just not right, it's not fair, that she's the only person in the galaxy who ever sees this man. She can think of so many places where he's needed, wanted, where he would be welcomed. She shouldn't be the only one to benefit from his guidance, his kindness, his concern.

The more she gets to know him, the more it kills her that he spends most of his time buried under rage, a practiced anger converted from that brokenness inside him.

She just wants to set this man free— Ben Solo. Destroy Kylo Ren for good and set him free.

That's what she wanted to do in the training room. Not mend a wounded shoulder.

She wishes she could say that her motivations were pure, that she wanted to do this for the good of the galaxy, out of the goodness of her heart.

But the truth is her reasons were selfish.

She just wants Ben Solo, misses him and wants him around more.

She misses his company, his conversation, how he challenges her but also supports her, encourages her. She misses hearing his perspective, his experiences. She even finds herself missing his smart-ass sense of humor.

Mostly she misses the way he sees her, really sees her, in a way that no one else does. No one else sees her cry, or knows her most deep-seated fears. No one else knows that she thinks of the Falcon as her home, or that she's scared of lightening in a thunderstorm, or that she worries she'll never discover her true destiny. Everyone else sees what she wants them to see, usually her survivor's armor, a hard exterior that projects confidence and self-sufficiency, that hides all of her vulnerabilities.

But she can't hide that from Ben Solo because she's bonded to him. She can't lie or pretend that everything's fine, because he feels what she feels. When they're together, everything that hurts in her hurts in him and visa versa. She has no choice but to show him her true face.

That's why, at the end of the day, he's her closest friend, the person who knows her better than anyone.

The fact is that he's the only one who understands her, understands how she can feel so lonely, so isolated, even when she's surrounded by friends. He's the first person she wants to talk to when something's troubling her. Whenever she's feeling scared or broken, she finds herself wishing he were there, just to hold her, to comfort her, to tell her everything's going to be alright. Because she's never felt more at home than his arms, never more content, more protected, more loved—

Suddenly, Rey jerks back, eyes flying open. It's so jarring, that Kylo reacts without thinking, ejecting himself from her mind.

But not before the realization hit her. He was there for that. He was in her mind, in her heart, when that wave of emotions washed over her and for the first time, she recognized it for what it was.

Love.

She loves him. Just as much as he loves her.

She looks up, eyes wide with shock.

Kylo doesn't think, doesn't deliberate, doesn't question. He just acts.

He steps forward, capturing her lips with his own, pulling her into him, an arm behind her waist, a hand at the back of her head, taking her hungrily like he's wanted to do for so damn long, like he's imagined doing every day since he first extended his hand towards her and offered everything he had to give.

At first, she's stiff and awkward, unsure of herself. But she soon follows her first instinct, just melting into him, giving into the moment, what she feels in her body and her heart. She slides her palms up his chest, curling her fingers behind his neck and into his hair.

They open their mouths, taking each other in, losing themselves in the physical sensations—the wet, the warmth, their muscles trembling with desire— but also the emotional experience, the oneness of a shared love flowing between them.

Time and space fades away, leaving only the heat, the blood racing through their veins, the gripping and pulling of flesh as one kiss blends into the next one, then the next, then the next…

It's perfect.

Until he feels her stiffen, seizing with panic. She slides her palms to his chest and starts pushing him away.

He releases her lips, but keeps her close, an arm behind her waist, a gloved hand cupping the back of her head. They're both panting and trembling, and she's starting to cry, tears pouring down her cheeks. She pushes against him but he resists, bringing his lips to her ear.

"Don't fight this, Rey," he begs, his voice just above a whisper. "Please. Please." The last word comes out breathless, desperate.

She starts to cry harder, her shoulders shaking with sobs.

He pulls back, just an inch away, framing her face with both hands, brushing away her tears. He lingers a moment, eyes pleading, before resting his forehead on hers.

"Don't fight this." He shakes his head. "Please. Please. You're always…" He pulls back just enough to look her in the eyes, those beautiful brown eyes, glistening with tears. "You're always searching for the bond's purpose, what it's for…" He drops a hand to her waist.

"This is what it's for." He descends, his lips at her ear. "It's for us to be together. Like this. Part of you has to know that." He feels her shake with a fresh round of sobs.

He pulls back, an agony of emotions ripping through him, both his own and hers, all of the love and desire and fear and pain, weighing his heart down with a crushing burden.

Her eyes drift to his, barely visible through the tears, and suddenly Kylo feels everything she's experiencing, everything storming inside her, sharpen into one, unmistakable emotion.

Sheer terror.

She freezes, her body stiff like a statue. She stares up at him, lips parted, eyes wide.

Then in an instant, she's gone, her warm body disappearing in his arms, nothing left but cold air and the smooth, black floor below.

Kylo staggers, reeling, his mind not fully convinced that what just happened was real.

He stands in the throne room, numbed and unable to move, alone in the deafening silence.