45. Failure

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Kylo reflects on his life and choices.

The light flickers. It's faint, only a slight dimming, but Kylo notices.

He's lying flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. The light is long and skinny, running half the length of the room. It's always on, the flickers coming in intervals, which means it's powered by a generator, an indication that he's underground.

Though there's no way to know for sure.

He sits up, moving his legs over the bed. He glances at his hand, knuckles gnarled and scabbed from punching the console. The wound's not healing well, bones twisting in directions they shouldn't.

He looks around.

The room is a hole, a concrete trap without windows or doors. It's clear the ceiling can open, but it hasn't since he's been here. The space is empty except for a bed, a latrine, and meticulously arranged water canteens and portions in the corner. Kylo rises, walking to kneel before them. He quickly tallies what's left, enough to sustain him for a month, more if he's conservative.

Of all the things in the room, these supplies are the most useful, and not just because they keep him alive. They're his only way of measuring time, each empty pack marking the passage of a day. They're also an indicator of how long he has before Hux sends an interrogation team to attempt wrenching the codes for Starkiller. That's when the real fun will begin…

Kylo's lips twist grimly.

He's almost looking forward to it. At least it will get him out of this room, give him something to do besides pace and stare at the light.

He looks over the supplies a final time, then moves to retake a seat on the bed. He settles slowly, eyes on the wall, a grayish-white slab.

Then, he stares. And stares, and stares, and stares.

What a strange thing, to have so much time. He's counted eight days so far, though he knows it's been longer, the first few blurred by the effects of the shadow moss. Eight long days alone in this room— no distractions, no interruptions, no responsibilities, nothing to do but think.

He sighs, scooting back on the bed.

So, what does he do when he has nothing but thousands of empty minutes to fill?

Mostly he thinks what's happening outside these walls. He thinks about Hux, what he's doing to the First Order, the galaxy, everything Kylo's worked so hard to build. He can't help but remember something his mother once told him, that growing takes patience and time but destruction? That takes nothing at all.

Oh, the things Hux has destroyed by now…

He's certainly demoted everyone Kylo promoted from the lower ranks, dismantled his cadets and Petrov's too, shut down the diplomatic division, halted all negotiations and building projects. He's withdrawn troops from the Core Worlds, stopped raids on slave markets, probably nullified the law altogether. At first Kylo was terrified of what he might do to Sylas until he realized Hux would get much more pleasure from "putting him in his place" than killing him. Sylas is probably on garbage detail in the darkest corner of the Supremacy.

And Hux has, without a doubt, started his war with the Resistance, though Kylo wagers it's not going as well as he expected. For one, Rey certainly warned them of the impending attack, and by the time Hux slogged through the mess Kylo left him, most of their bases were likely evacuated.

But most crucially, by now Hux has discovered exactly how good his mother is at fighting this kind of war. She's spent decades maneuvering around giants, the vast resources of the Empire, government officials with deep pockets and boundless influence. Kylo's certain she was ready for a full-on assault, that she's been ready with preparations and protocols, back-ups for her back-ups. She's initiated strategic retreat, scattered the Resistance to far corners while Hux runs the First Order ragged searching for them.

It's funny something that worried Kylo so much as Supreme Leader now gives him such comfort. Of all the reasons he wanted to avoid war with the Resistance, one of the most motivating was the fear his mother would make a fool of him. Now she's making a fool of Hux, and she's giving Kylo the peace of knowing she and Rey are safe.

Without thinking, he reaches for his side, feeling Rey's crystal through folds of fabric. It's the only thing Hux left him beyond the clothes on his back, though Kylo's sure he would've taken it had he been aware of its significance. He slips his fingers in, tracing the weathered angles.

No, he's doesn't worry about Rey as much as he worries about the First Order, how they're faring without him. Mostly, he worries about the lower ranks, all the changes Hux has reversed, not just the promotions but access to better food, resources, and training. He worries about Sylas and his cadets, what Hux might do to them if only for the joy of debasing something Kylo loves. He worries about the troops, Hux's complete disregard for their wellbeing. He worries about the upper ranks too, all the people who've given Kylo everything— their loyalty, their future, their lives.

He even worries about the generals, knowing full well it was their support that allowed Hux to take control. He thinks about men like Kas, Petrov, and Voigt, men who've sacrificed for him, trusted him. They've been his staunchest allies, working against Hux's machinations, rebuffing the rumors about him and Rey. How did they feel when the realization settled, that he'd allowed them defend him against accusations that were true?

Kylo sinks, staring at the wall.

He made them look like fools.

He failed them, all of them. He failed the generals, the officers, the troopers, the supply workers. He was their leader, their sovereign, and he let a madman take over, a man doesn't have the slightest consideration for their lives.

And he failed the galaxy. He failed every planet they've ever negotiated with, every government that's given their support. He promised order and prosperity, and now they're going to get destruction and bloodshed.

It's his fault. It's all his fault.

He closes his eyes.

The weight of the failure is crushing. It's all he can feel, all he can think about, everyone who's looked up to him, counted on him, what will happen now that Hux has control. He'd love nothing more than to blame it all on Rey, fill these empty minutes with his rage, railing against hervindictiveness and lack of foresight.

But he can't. He can't blame anyone but himself.

It flashes before him, everything he's done to end up here, rotting in this hole, right up to that final moment, the horrible realization when he caught the scent of the shadow moss.

Hux had been a step ahead of him. He'd rigged the shuttle with a highly processed strain of the drug, not its natural form but a concentrated dose reserved for torture and interrogation. The experience was excruciating, the first part an explosion of skull-splitting pain so intense he could hardly maintain consciousness. The second part was longer, stretching on for days. He laid on the bed, staring at the light, watching it shimmer.

He'd take the first part over the second any day. He understands why people find it pleasant, the way it transforms the environment with a gentle glow, but the beauty isn't worth the cost.

He remembers the first time he experienced it. He remembers it very well. Snoke sent him to quell an uprising, but he barely stepped foot on the battlefield before his mask filled with a strange scent. It was a nightmare of explosions and screaming, one he only survived by burying himself in a mud hole to wait it out. He'd been so relieved when the effects shifted, sights and sounds quieting to something gentler. He felt like he was floating, out of the hole and into the sky, up, up, up until he could see it all at a distance, his whole life laid before him.

And for the first time, he saw it. He saw like the kyber crystals see, his place in millennia of creation and destruction. He saw what he'd done, what he was doing, what he was becoming.

He saw that his life was a lie, and Snoke was its arbiter. He saw Snoke for who he was, a bitter, twisted creature who took a powerful boy, stoked his anger and his hurt, and fashioned a tool he could use to achieve a purpose Kylo only partially understood. He saw that he wasn't Vader reborn, the ultimate culmination of a family legacy, but instead a boy who'd been tricked, whose only legacy would be tragedy. He lay in the mud, soaked with tears and rain, drowning in the cold truth of it.

Then, the effects of the moss faded. He came back to himself, crawled out of the hole, looked around.

And he walked away. He buried the memory, and whenever it resurfaced, he pushed it deeper, crushing it into the recesses of his mind.

Coming back to that hole was a grim homecoming, like the first time he stepped foot on the Falcon after years of being away. It was as though he'd never left, like he'd been there all along. He could see it all, just like he had then, his whole life laid before him as he observed from afar, separated from emotion and bias.

He couldn't be angry with Rey then, not when the truth was so obvious. She'd been a fool, attacking that data center without consideration to the larger consequence, but is she the reason he's here right now?

No. No, she is not.

He would've been gassed and out cold regardless of what she did or did not do. The rumors were all but fact after the Knights attacked. She only supplied the final confirmation.

He was the one who made the choice to stay on Osean when he should've left. He was the one who brought a damn army into the facility to witness his confrontation with the Knights. He was the one who failed to call the Knights back in when he had the chance.

The more he thought, the more he could see it, all of the choices that put this sequence of events into motion. He started to chase them, searching for the root, that key decision that doomed him to this room, this outcome, the loss of everything he cares about.

Was it the decision after Bandomeer to let the rumors run their course, grow into a wild, uncontrollable thing eating at his authority?

No. If he'd confirmed the rumors, he would've just gotten here sooner. He'd already broken trust by being with Rey at all, secretly involving her in the invasions.

So, was it that, then? Sharing classified intel with the enemy?

No. He'd told her so much already, taken her advice. Perhaps it was being with her at all, letting her influence him?

No. That was the bond. It happened without him realizing it, their relationship, the influence they have over one another.

Was it the throne room, then? The choice to extend his hand and ask her to join him, a rejection of her offer to take him away from this life?

No. If he'd gone with her, Hux would've taken control of the First Order, and Kylo would be exactly where he is right now, sitting idly as Hux inflicts wanton destruction with the organization Kylo helped build.

He kept going like this, chasing down his choices, the key moments of is life— the confrontation with his father on Starkiller, cutting down San Tekka on Jakku, every memory of innocent bloodshed, every cruelty he inflicted on Alyse, on all the Knights, his reaction when he woke to find his uncle hovering over him with a lightsaber. He ran through all of it, plotting his course piece by piece until he finally found it, the root that lead him right here, to this moment.

It was both a disappointment and a revelation.

Because it wasn't a choice that lead him here. It wasn't one decision but a series of decisions fueled by something inside him, a desire woven into his very being.

The desire for control.

It was a manic hunger he was born with, a hunger that grew as the result of his circumstance and his response to it. It was nothing he did, and everything he did. He was given a legacy, an impossible set of expectations, and he chafed against it, desperate to take his life and mold it to his own purpose.

That's how he fell into Snoke's trap. By the time Snoke snaked his way into his mind, Kylo was ready, eager for every lie he fed him. Rey's voice echoes in his mind, haunting and distant— "You drown yourself in lies and illusions of control…"

He slumps against the wall.

She was right. He has drowned himself in lies, and the illusion of control is the mother of them all.

Because that's what control is— an illusion. Out of all the revelations he came to during his drug-induced reflection, that's the one that lingers the most.

There is no control; there never was. There is only the feeling of control, and that's more dangerous than anything because once you get it, you'll do anything to keep it— lie, cheat, kill, destroy everything that threatens it. Oh, the things he's done to preserve that illusion… The lives he's taken, the communities he's shattered, the pain he's caused.

His throat tightens. There's a knot there, choking at the base. His muscles constrict around it, sending out shocks like poison.

It's both numbing and excruciating. He can't help but wonder if this is how Vader felt, dying on the floor of the Death Star. Of all the people in the galaxy's history, who else can say they've felt what he's feeling now? Who can say they looked back on their life only to realize it was a mistake, one giant mistake that cost billions of lives and untold destruction?

It's enough to knock the breath out of him. It's enough to make him feel like he can never breathe again.

Kylo's face drains of color.

A part of him has known this. A part of him has known that what he did for Snoke, for the First Order, was wrong. But how could he admit it? How could he look at the blood on his hands and admit the truth? Even now, he thrashes against it, rationalizing the destruction of Hosnian and a thousand other slaughters as necessary for galactic order.

But this is a lie. It's part of the illusion— that if he eliminates enough obstacles, sows enough fear, absolute power can be achieved.

Kylo shakes his head.

No. No.

There is no such thing as absolute power or absolute control. It's time to admit that, to admit that his vision of his destiny, the unquestionable sovereign bending the galaxy to his will is a lie. His whole life has been a lie, every tragedy he's inflicted has been for nothing but lies. And every lie has brought him here, to this moment— building the greatest force of destruction that's ever been only to rot in a hole as it's used to rip the galaxy apart.

Kylo exhales weakly.

That's the worst part, being cooped up here, unable to do a damn thing. He can't fix any of it, not Hux, not his past, not the pain and destruction he's caused. He can't do anything but stare at the wall knowing that he'll die here and be remembered as the man behind the greatest bloodbath in history.

His heart goes cold. He moves a trembling hand to his side, reaching for Rey's crystal. He runs his thumb along the angles, eager for its comfort.

Suddenly, he freezes.

He waits, ears pricked like he's listening. He sits perfectly still, attuned to every nuance of feeling. He's suspicious at first, doubting his own body.

But soon, it's unmistakable, the warmth rising in his core. Once he's certain, he sits up, jerking his hand from the crystal. He scoots to the edge of the bed, leaning over to rest his forearms on his knees. He's not sure what to feel as the ripples of her presence get closer— Anger? Excitement? Dread? He cycles through all of these, not settling on one before the warmth consumes him, then vanishes.

The room is quiet. Kylo keeps his eyes on the floor, but he can see her in his mind, standing a few feet away.

The first thing he feels is frantic urgency. She's searching him, eager for every detail. She steps to the side, perhaps to get a better look, then lets out an exhale.

Relief floods over him. Every muscle tremors as tension releases in steady pulses. For a split second, he's confused.

Then, it hits him.

She's been worried. Very worried. About him.

He swells with satisfaction.

Good. There's something sweet in knowing that for once she's been the one tearing her hair out over him. How has she felt sitting around terrified for his safety and utterly helpless to do anything?

It's an unnecessary question. He knows exactly how she feels, through his own experience and through the bond. She has been sick with worry. She's exhausted from it, every part of her body weak and drained. There's something else too, a heavy gnawing like guilt.

She thinks she's the reason he's here.

He feels another twinge of satisfaction.

She's pacing now, not far, between the wall and the latrine. He observes her out of the corner of his eye but is careful to keep his head down. The first thing he notices is his lightsaber attached to her side.

He sets his jaw.

She keeps pacing, glancing at him now and then, but never speaking. She's distraught, trembling and wringing her hands. He tilts his head for a better look, noticing the wetness on her cheeks.

She's crying. The tears pour softly and without a sound.

He looks to the floor, his satisfaction receding. With every passing second, his understanding deepens, what she's been going through since he last saw her. He recognizes the emotions as they unfold— fear, grief, regret, shame.

He lifts his head, shifting on the bed. For the first time, their eyes meet.

She halts, catching her breath. Holding his gaze seems painful, her eyes tight and full of tears. She quickly turns her back to him, wiping her face. She wraps her arms around her body, scrunching her shoulders to her ears.

For a minute, they're both still. He watches as she hugs herself, trembling.

"Rey…"

She tenses at her name.

"How long?"

"H-how long?"

"Since you last saw me."

"It's… been twelve days."

He nods. That's about what he expected. "And what's happening?"

She slumps. "Hux… has declared himself the Supreme Leader. He released a holo announcing your disposal and his authority over the galaxy. Then, he began an assault on the Resistance, attacking all known bases."

"How many losses?"

"Not many in the Resistance. We evacuated before the attack but…" She gulps. "All of the towns and cities that were close by… H-he… He destroyed them," she whispers. "Thousands of lives, tens of thousands were lost. And now, he's blockaded the entire Lothal system and is attacking their cities one by one until they give up the location of Resistance headquarters."

Kylo bows his head.

"He says if someone doesn't step forward within the week, he'll destroy the entire system."

"He can't do that."

"Yes, he can." She whips around. "Starkiller's operational now. He can do whatever he wants."

"No, he can't."

"Why not?"

"Because he doesn't have access to the weapon. It's on lockdown, and only one person has the code."

Rey tilts her chin up, confused. Then, she gasps. "You have the code?"

He nods. "It's the only reason I'm still alive. I had the weapon designed so only the Supreme Leader could use it."

"That's…" She floods with relief. "Brilliant, Ben. Absolutely brilliant. Very strategic. Very—" She stops, scrunching her face. "Ben…" She looks down. "I-I…" She squelches a whimper.

Then, she bursts into tears, collapsing to the floor.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…" She shakes violently, hardly able to breath. She keeps trying to speak, but he can only understand every other word, things like "all of them" and "my fault."

He gets up, walking to her swiftly. "Rey." He kneels, putting a hand on her shoulder.

That only makes her cry harder. She keeps muttering, but he doesn't have a clue what she's saying.

"Rey…"

Suddenly, she lunges, wrapping her arms around his neck, squeezing the life out of him. "I could've killed you," she sobs. "You could be dead, and it would be my fault."

"Rey, I'm not dead."

"But you could be! And so many people are! So many innocent people who did nothing! I killed them! I killed all of them!"

"Rey…"

She hugs tighter.

"Rey, STOP."

Finally, she quiets, loosening enough for him to pull away.

"Rey, this is not your fault."

"Yes, it is," she chokes. "I did this. I gave Hux control, and now he's killing everyone."

"No. Hux made his move well before you attacked that center."

"W-what…?" Her sobs taper.

"Didn't you wonder why I was in the shuttle?"

She stares dumbly.

"Hux turned the generals against me after the Knights attacked. I was on the way to Starkiller when he gassed me and threw me in here."

She falls back on her heels.

"He's been wanting to attack the Resistance for months and would have regardless of what you did. This isn't your fault." He brushes the tears from her cheek.

She looks away, the realization settling, though it's hardly a comfort. "No." She shakes her head. "No. That doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is that it could have been my fault. I am an idiot. The Resistance, the whole galaxy looked up to me, and I let them down. I let everyone down."

"Rey—"

"Leia was furious." She sucks in a breath. "Just furious, and she had every right to be. Every right. She needed me to be strong and smart, and instead I endangered her son. I endangered the Resistance. I endangered the whole galaxy, and now she's suspended my activities, demoted Poe—"

"Poe?" Kylo darkens. "What's he have to do with anything?"

Rey stiffens. "He…" She looks down. "He was the one who… came up with the idea to attack the center."

Kylo's eyes flare. He clenches his fists, grinding scabbed knuckles into the floor.

If he ever gets in the same room with that idiot of a pilot, he's going take him by the throat—

"It wasn't just him." Rey slumps. "He came up with the plan, but I'm the one who executed it. It's my responsibility. My mistake. I should've considered the bigger picture. I should've thought ahead— two steps ahead, ten steps ahead. I should've—" She catches herself. "I… I should've been more like you."

The room falls quiet.

Kylo straightens, more than a little surprised. He watches Rey, seeing her emotions as well as he feels them. She's sitting back on her calves, her shoulders hanging heavy.

He's never felt her so defeated.

"I-I…" She whispers. "I'm not what I should be, not what I'm supposed to be. Everyone expects me to be this leader, this hero, but I'm not. I'm just a girl, a stupid girl who doesn't know a thing about running anything of importance. I…" She hangs her head. "I'm nothing."

"Rey." He reaches for her chin, tilting up. "You are not nothing."

"You sure about that?"

He cringes at the memory of the throne room. "Rey, you know I think you're more than that. You are powerful and compassionate, but you're not infallible. You made a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes."

"Ben..." She grunts. "Forgetting to check the core chamber in a hyperdrive— that's a mistake. What I did is a catastrophe. I started a war. I nearly got you and every other person I love killed. Because of my actions, billions could die. Billions, Ben. I brought the galaxy to the brink of apocalypse, and I-I…" She croaks. "I don't know what to do. I don't know how to come back from this, if I even can come back from this. How can I lead anyone ever again? How can I live with myself?"

He looks down.

She sniffles, crying softly.

"You…" He takes a breath. "You aren't the one responsible for this, Rey. Everything that's happening, everything that's been lost, it's not because of you." His throat tightens. "It's… It's because of me."

Her tears die away.

Kylo scoots back, settling on the floor. "You… You say you don't know how to come back from this..." He keeps his eyes down. "But your mistake is hypothetical. You aren't actually responsible for what's happening. But me…?" He swallows. "My mistakes have lead to the destruction of entire cultures. I've slaughtered families, villages, cities. I've killed, tortured, and maimed. There are billions living with the pain I've caused and billions more who aren't living at all. I built the First Order, forged it in blood. I created the conditions that lead the galaxy here, to this moment. I-I…" He drags his eyes up. "I'm the one to blame."

Rey stares at him, shocked.

"You think you know failure? You think you know regret? Wait until you're responsible for the destruction of an entire star system. Wait until—" He chokes. "Wait until you've killed your own father, then come back and tell me about regret."

Her eyes tighten.

"I'm the biggest failure in the galaxy's history. I'm worse than nothing. I'm—" He looks down. "I'm a monster."

"No." He instantly feels a hand over his. "No, you're not."

He shakes his head.

"Ben." Her hand moves to his cheek. "Look at me." She guides his face up. "You are not a monster. You never have been. I should never have said that. Your mistakes do not define you. That's not who you are."

"Rey…" He lifts a hand to hers, pulling away. "A person is defined by their actions, and I've committed horrors that most people wouldn't dream of. I am a monster, and there's no going back."

"NO! That is not your destiny."

"Then, what? What's my destiny beyond bringing the galaxy to its knees?"

"It's…" She hesitates. "It's to fail."

He blinks. "What?"

"Yes, that's it. That's what you're here for."

"Rey… that makes no sense."

"It makes perfect sense. You're here to fail and fail miserably, worse than anyone ever has."

"For what reason?"

"Hope." She juts her chin up. "It's your destiny to give the galaxy hope that anyone can be redeemed, that anyone can rise beyond their past and become something more, something better."

"No. Rey, there's no coming back. There's no redemption for the things I've done."

"How do you know?"

"Because I know, Rey. I feel it. I feel all of the pain I've caused. There is no recovering what's lost. There's no—" He looks down. "There's no erasing what I am."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I'm the man Snoke made me, and I always will be."

"No, Ben, you killed Snoke. You're growing past him. I've seen it."

"Rey, I can't kill Snoke. Not really. His body's dead, but he still lives here." He taps his head. "I still think like him, reason like him. I have the same priorities, the same perspective. He molded me, and I will never be free of his influence."

She narrows her eyes. He can see the reflexive disagreement in them. "Snoke may live in you…" She starts carefully. "But that doesn't mean that you can't be your own man. You can take everything he taught you and remold it to your own purpose. You can use it to make sure people like him never sink their teeth into this galaxy again."

"There's no preventing that, Rey. There will always be people like Snoke. There will always deceivers and war-mongers and monsters who enjoy destruction for its own sake."

"That's why we need people like you, people who recognize the monsters when they see them, who know how to beat them at their own game."

He sighs.

"Ben, think about it. Think about the bond. Think about the kyber crystals, what they showed us. You are meant for more. We are meant for more. We aren't meant to just fail and watch the galaxy crumble. We're supposed save it, to confront the past and build a new future. You feel this in your heart. I know you do."

He shakes his head.

"Ben, look me in the eye and tell me you think the bond brought us together for no reason."

"Rey, I don't have a clue what the bond is for or why it does what it does. It's completely arbitrary. Like right now— Why are you here? Why does it keep bringing you to me and not the other way around?"

She twists her lips to one side.

"See. There's no pattern, nothing that makes sense. It's beyond understanding, so why bother?"

"Ben." She groans. "You saw the vision. You saw what the crystals showed us. The bond doesn't have to make sense or follow some pattern in order to mean something. Maybe we'll never understand it. Maybe it will always be a mystery, but we don't have to understand it in order to fulfill its purpose."

"And what is that exactly?"

"To save the galaxy— from war, from people like Snoke and Hux, from everything that was wrong with the Republic and the Empire, the Jedi and the Sith."

"Rey…" He blinks. "Did you not say five minutes ago that you can't imagine leading anyone ever again? And, what? Now you want us to swoop in and lead the whole galaxy into a glorious, fantasy future?"

She tilts her chin up, considering. "Yeah… I think I do."

He grunts.

"Because of you." She leans in. "Because you've given me perspective, helped me realize there aren't any mistakes so bad you can't recover from them. We are going to rise up, learn from our mistakes and do better, and we're going to start by getting you out of this hole." She shoots to her feet.

"Rey…"

She scurries to the bed, stepping onto the mattress to inspect the ceiling.

"What are you doing?" He rises.

"Has the room opened since you've been here?"

He sighs.

"It looks like the whole ceiling can lift. And the light's flickering. That means it's probably running on a generator. Maybe you're underground or in a desert?"

He rolls his eyes.

"What've you done to try to escape so far?"

"Nothing."

She shoots him a look.

"Rey, there is no escaping this room. I can guarantee you that. That ceiling's probably ten feet of concrete and quantum armor."

"What about…" Her hand drifts to her side. "This?" Her fingers curl around his lightsaber. "Could you use this to cut through?"

"Lightsabers can't cut through quantum armor. You use that, and all you'll do is bury us under chunks of concrete."

She twitches, then looks back to the ceiling, refusing to give up. She rakes over it, searching for some secret or flaw.

His eyes are fixed on his lightsaber. He carefully lifts a hand.

Rey glances at him, then whips to the weapon, sensing his intention. She grips tightly.

He sets his jaw.

"You know…" She slides the hilt from her side. "I would say I'm sorry for taking this but you did keep my crystal from me."

He stares, unblinking.

"And if I hadn't, Hux would have it now, so if you think about it, I did you a favor."

His face is stone.

"Actually…" She hugs it to her chest. "I've liked having it. It's like have a piece of you nearby."

His eyes flicker.

"I've taken very good care of it. It hasn't left my side. Not once."

Nothing.

Rey leans away, clutching the saber.

They stare at each other, deadlocked. Then, Rey narrows her eyes.

"I can hear you still have my crystal."

He doesn't move.

"Would you…? Be open to an exchange?"

For a minute, they're both still.

Then, very slowly, he drifts a hand to his side. He slips into folds of fabric, never taking his eyes off Rey. She keeps her gaze until he pulls out his hand, gripping the crystal.

A fire lights in her eyes. She stares intently as he moves front of her, keeping his palm down.

Her lips part, anticipation spiking. She extends his saber, stopping when it hovers next to his hand. She uncurls her fingers until it balances on her palm

He turns his hand over, opening slowly.

Rey catches her breath. She's mesmerized, fixed on the crystal. She only snaps out of the trance when he snatches his weapon.

She instantly grabs the crystal, cradling it with both hands. She brings it close, her face glowing. At first, he thinks it's just excitement, but then he notices the crystal brighten.

He can't stop his lips from turning up. Joy and reverence surge through him, the emotions so powerful they could be his own. It brings him back to the first time he saw his own crystal, raking over it, trying to memorize every detail. He glances at his saber, a twinge in his heart.

A second later, he darkens.

He lifts the weapon, examining closely. It looks the same, burnt metal at the edges of the crossguard, an opening at the top of the hilt, but… something's different.

He turns, scowling at the saber. He steps away, sliding a thumb to the ignition.

The red blade shoots out, electric hum filling the room. He lifts it vertical, the blade hot in front of his face.

It's… not right, not like it was before. It's sharper, no longer blazing but precise and focused. It used to look unstable, like it could blow up in his hand, but now it has a contained quality, fiery but controlled.

He whips it through the air.

It even feels different, less power and more purpose in its movement.

"Rey…" He switches off the weapon. He turns just as she tucks her crystal into a pocket, making a point to keep her head down. "What did you do?"

She presses her lips together.

"Rey, what did you do?"

"I…" She shifts a little."Conducted an experiment."

"An experiment?"

"Yes."

"What experiment?"

"Well…" She hesitates. "I wanted to see if it was possible to… heal a kyber crystal."

"Heal a kyber crystal?"

"Yes." She glances up. "As it turns out, it's possible."

"You…" He gapes at her. "You…"

"Fixed it."

He blinks. "You fixed it?"

"Yes, I took it apart and—"

"YOU TOOK IT APART!?"

"And put it back together!"

"Damn it, Rey! You changed it. You changed its nature, and now it's not as powerful."

"How do you know!? You haven't even used it. Maybe it's more powerful, or powerful in a different way."

"You had no right!"

"Ben, that crystal was hurting. You were torturing it and yourself, but now you're both free."

"Free from what!?"

"From walking around with an open wound!"

His nostrils flare.

"Don't look at me like that." She crosses her arms. "It was for your own good."

"Who the hell are you to say what is and is not for my own good!?"

She rolls her eyes.

"You…" He grits his teeth. "Are such a hypocrite. All your self-righteous lecturing about my violation with that tracker, then you take something that's mine, an extension of my own body, and you irrevocably change it!"

She looks down.

"DAMN IT, REY!" He charges at her. "When are you going to stop punishing me? When are you—"

"BEN!" She seizes the hand gripping his saber, covering it with both of hers. He's on the verge of ripping away when—

Kylo softens.

The realization cuts straight to the heart.

Rey stands in front of him, eyes closed. For a split second, they're not here but in the training room, the first time she reached out, hovering a hand over his shoulder. He feels what he did then, a warm glow in her heart.

He starts to feel it, the broken knuckles in his hand tingling. The bones, twisted and scabbed, move into place. He almost misses the pain when it disappears. He'd grown so accustomed to it he forgot there was another way.

Rey stands serene, emanating love and compassion. She lets out a slow breath, lingering before withdrawing her hands.

He glances at his knuckles, the skin smooth without the slightest scab. Then, he looks to Rey.

"Ben…" She lifts a hand to his face. "I didn't do this to punish you. I did it to help you heal, but…" She caresses his cheek. "I can only take you so far. You have to go the rest of way."

He stiffens.

Part of him wants to jerk away, rage at her for what she's done, hold her accountable for her hypocrisy.

But there's another part, buried deep in his subconscious, that somehow already knew, felt it the moment the crystal mended. It's the part that yearns for everything he knows is out of reach— redemption, forgiveness, atonement.

Rey's hand slips from his cheek. She never looks away, eyes brimming with love and hope.

It's the last thing he sees before she disappears.

The room grows cold. He hadn't realized it until now, how much her presence transformed it. The space seemed larger with her here, the light warmer, the walls less crushing.

Now it's a prison again.

Kylo stands, hollow, staring at the floor. He's still holding his lightsaber, his grip firm but loose. He's hardly aware of himself when he turns to move to the bed. He lowers slowly, looking at the saber. He opens his palm to study it, the burnt metal, the red wiring, the chips and cracks. Long minutes pass as he stares and stares and stares.

Then, he abruptly tosses the weapon, not seeing where it lands. He bristles as he scoots back on the bed.

Fixed it, she says…

She ruined it. It hardly feels like his anymore. It's not the same weapon he's carried with him all these years, the one he used—

His thoughts halt.

For an instant, it flashes, a million images crammed into one, everything he's done with that saber since he bled it to become Kylo Ren. That poisonous feeling starts to return, and he fights to swallow.

He forces his mind elsewhere, to Rey, everything that happened while she was here. He runs through every word, every image, greedy for any thought that doesn't lead to despair. He imagines the scene a dozen times focusing on some parts more than others— the way she held him tight, sobbing, her eyes when she first caught sight of her crystal, her hands over his, healing him. He thinks about her worry, her remorse, how hard she's been on herself. She's a better leader than she thinks…

Suddenly, he hears his mother's voice. She's been in his mind so much more lately, snippets of conversations and advice making their way to the surface after years of being buried.

"Every leader is a failure," she'd always say. "But the best leaders admit their failures, own up to them and grow."

Kylo sinks, leaning against the wall. He hears Rey's voice now, what she said about his destiny.

He furrows his brow.

It's a pretty thought, that he was always meant to fail miserably only so his rise could be all the more astonishing. It would make a good story, the kind that's told and retold over generations, so many times that it becomes part of how people think.

He grunts.

It's exactly the kind of thing a child would dream up, someone who hasn't lived long enough to know true failure, what it costs, consequences that can never be reversed.

He closes his eyes.

He shifts on the bed, settling back to stretch his legs over the mattress. He blinks, the light on the ceiling coming into focus.

It flickers.

Kylo stares, trying to focus on its rhythm, but he's lost all control of his thoughts. They drift from Rey's pretty dream to reality— his life, his choices. A decade's worth of memories flicker by, everything he's done to get here, what will be left when he's gone…

Cities and villages in ruins, a scavenger's bounty. Asteroid fields that used to be star systems. Stories of loved ones passed to on children who will never have the chance to meet them.

And the legend of a masked man with a fiery red saber, the monster responsible for it all.

He goes cold as he thinks of it, but he doesn't try to fight it. He just lets the images roll, embraces the pain and the numbness that comes with them. He's not even aware of it when his lids hang heavy, then drift closed. His thoughts slip seamlessly into nightmares, dark and unsettling.

Kylo's eyes snap open. The first thing he sees is the light.

It's moving, rising higher and higher with the ceiling.

He instantly shoots up, searching for his weapon. He's blurry from sleep, hardly able to think as he scrambles for his saber, snatching it up.

He freezes just before he turns it on.

It hits him at once, the familiar feeling, but his first instinct is denial.

That's impossible…

He fixes on the ceiling, watching it rise until light floods in, the room opening to reveal a much larger one above.

The ceiling stops with a clang, footsteps approaching quickly. Kylo grips his saber, preparing to leap.

"Ben!" Rey kneels above him. "Come on! We have to hurry."

His jaw drops.

"Ben!" She motions up. "We don't have much time."

He blinks, not trusting his own eyes.

She twists around, looking behind her. "Ben." She turns back. "If we go now, we might not have to fight our way out, but we have to move."

Kylo regains control of his senses. He steps back, then leaps, landing by Rey in a single bound.

"We're going through the ventilation system." She rises, grabbing his arm. "It'll be a tight squeeze, but you can make it."

She pulls him through a room the size of a hanger, all open space with industrial lights towering above. They stop in front of a door, Rey slipping a device from her pouch and holding it to the keypad. It hovers there until a red light turns green, then she presses a panel, the door whirring open.

"Alright, stay low and be quiet." She starts through the door, but he grabs her wrist.

"Wait."

She looks back.

"Where are we? How'd you find me?"

She hesitates.

Then, she points to his lightsaber. "Tracker."

"What!?" His eyes flare. "You put a tracker in my—"

"Don't even start with me." She sticks a finger in his face. "Come on. This place will be swarming any minute."

She disappears into a darkened room.

Kylo sets his jaw, suppressing a growl.

Then, he follows her.