23. Chapter 23

Lunch is protein porridge and a bread roll stuffed into her pocket for later. Rey is sure Kylo notices -  as closely connected as they are at this point, how could he not? But he doesn’t say anything as they leave the empty cafeteria and she stretches her legs to keep up with him. So what’s the plan?

We go to the Knight’s training room. We get your saber. We leave. Through the link she feels his cool assurance, though he’s donned the mask again, hiding his expression.

What if there are knights in the training room? Rey presses. Their last encounter with a weak-minded Knight of Ren had gone well enough. The one before that had ended with a foiled assassination attempt and her covered in Kylo’s blood. If they get pulled into any major conflict with the Knights, Snoke will know they’re planning something and they won’t have time to recover before facing him.

There won’t be. They have more important things to do than to stand around, waiting to annoy me. He disguises a light touch on her arm in the flow of his robe and leads her back up the endless white tile stairs to the red and black door emblazoned with the sigil of the First Order.

After the relative comfort of Yali’s training room, the Knight’s of Ren’s facilities is downright barbaric. Cold light falls on gray duracrete, picking out the scorches and scars within the white painted circles.  Splashes of old blood splatter the floor and walls. The room is nearly as empty as Kylo had suspected. A single unarmored Knight stands in a corner wearing a heavy helmet, a sort of simulator, perhaps? He swipes at enemies she can’t see with an electrified staff.

Kylo leads her around the perimeter of the room, steps quiet, staying well away from the distracted practitioner, to a discreet alcove between weapon racks. Here. He takes a position at her back as she steps forward, a barrier between her and anyone who might glance over.

Rey studies the jumble of hilts and rifles through it until she brushes her hand against the one that calls to her. These are your trophies? There’s no order or arrangement. It could be just another pile of equipment for the Knights of Ren to pull from.

What were you expecting? A shrine? His voice in her head finds such pageantry distasteful. Tomorrow’s battles are of greater significance than yesterday’s victories.

Rey sighs, unwilling to admit that she’d expected much worse than this, and slips the saber under her tunic where it clinks against the holochron. The metal is cold against her skin, but it feels like a part of her that had been missing has come home. I guess you were right about the Knights , she begrudges him and turns to go while their good luck holds.

They make it halfway to the door before the Knight removes his helmet, rakes a clawed hand over his bare scalp and glances around the room, slitted eyes landing on Kylo for a moment before returning to his equipment.

Keep walking . Kylo’s voice in her head is a careful study of control and Rey keeps her eyes on the floor as they make their exit.

Rey lets out a heavy breath once they’re back in the relative safety of the room and the door is sealed behind her. “I can’t believe that worked.” She lets out a shaky laugh and removes the holochron from under her shirt and sets it reverently on the shelf by the door.

Kylo removes his mask, sets it beside the holochron, and frowns. “You still don’t trust me.” Melancholy flares against her mind, a blend of anger, resignation, and a trace of honest disappointment. The resentful, bitter flavor echoes on her tongue.

“It’s not that. Things just don’t go right for me.” Rey clasps his arm, the wool of his sleeve rough under her fingers, before pulling out her lightsaber and curling her fingers around the textured grip. She feels, for the first time in days, truly powerful. She lets her mind fill with the relief of it, the sense of strength, of possibility, that flows from holding the weapon. She is whole again.  

As she runs her thumb over the switch that would ignite the blade, a twinge of tension, anticipation, tinges their connection. She feels him twitch towards his lightsaber hilt where it hangs on his belt. “Now who lacks trust?”

“What do you mean?” His eyes are glued to the lazy exploration of her fingers over the dull metal, and she feels his spine curling into a fighting crouch.

Rey lets out a small humorless laugh. “I can feel your thoughts, Kylo. You’re wondering if I’m going to try and kill you, now that I have my saber.”

The tension leaves his shoulders, taut muscles relaxing as Kylo straightens his back and moves his hand away from the hilt at his side, wrapping his gloved hand over hers on the saber. “It’s a calculated risk.”

Heat radiates through the leather glove, equilibrium reestablishing itself  as the moment of doubt passes. “Very calculated, when you know exactly what I’m thinking.” Rey rolls her eyes and takes refuge in scathing words.

“I never know exactly what you’re thinking.” Kylo shakes his head and gives a small shrug, his dark eyes on hers.

His fatigue hits her like the floor after a long fall and she sags with it as she places her lightsaber on the shelf beside the holochron.  It’s still early afternoon, but his nightmare had pulled them out of sleep long before the night cycle ended, and they’d been training with Yali since she’d emerged. Rey feels for the Force, tries to draw that energy back into herself, recapture the feeling of endless motivation, endless strength. It sticks around her fingers, refuses to sink under her skin. She trudges over to the bed and plops down onto the mattress. “Don’t worry.  All I’m thinking about is a nap.”

Kylo snorts and nods his rueful agreement. “We need to rest while we can.” He kicks off his boots casts himself down on the bed next to her. “Maybe we’ll get a bit of peace this afternoon.”

She doubts they will, but Rey nevertheless toes off her boots and swings her legs up to lay beside him. His arm wraps around her waist as he pulls her back against him, and she allows herself to curl against his chest.

Her eyes fly open hours later.

Rey knows what they can do, what they need to do, to distract the Knights of Ren, what will buy them the time to kill Snoke. She squirms under the weight of Kylo’s arm, mind still bleary with sleep but now fixated on the flash of inspiration that could save them. “Kylo. Kylo, wake up!” Rolling over, she raises herself onto an elbow and shakes his shoulder.

His face pulls into a grimace of pained displeasure as he mumbles something and tightens his grip on her waist.

“No, wake up! This is important.” She shakes him again, practically pouncing on him, and he cracks a sleepy eye up at her. “I know how we can distract the Knights!”

That gets his attention and he comes awake in an instant. “What are you thinking?”

“A Resistance air strike.” An animal snarl rips through their connection at the word ‘Resistance’, but she’s not done and this far superior to their half-hatched plan of arson. She’s got to make him understand. “I know they’re the enemies of the First Order, but they could help.”

“That’s your idea?” His tone drips scorn and revulsion as Kylo sits up, eyes narrowing. “The best thing you can think of is to call in the fucking Resitance?”

“Do you have a better idea?” Rey can feel his thoughts churn as he gears up for a fight. She will give him one if he insists. “You said it yourself, if the Knights of Ren get involved while we’re fighting Snoke, we can’t win! We need something huge.”

“How do you see that playing out?” Kylo shoves himself to his feet and begins pacing the room, working himself into a fit, voice rising. “Do you seriously think the Resistance will want to shake hands with me, will thank me for doing their job, and just fly off into the fucking sunset to live happily ever after?” His face twists. “With you flying off after them? Is that what this is all about? Using me to get back to them? Back to Skywalker?”

His rage tears into her mind, trying to draw her into the building tumult. Rey breathes, reaches for calm. The black pool sits heavy in her mind, radiating its malevolence. “Of course it is.” She fights to keep her voice quiet, collected, easy, and her sanity sheltered from the brewing storm. She sits up, throws her legs over the edge of the bed to face him as he seethes. “That’s the plan, right? You use me to kill your master, you seize control, or whatever your goal is here.” Her stomach curdles at the thought. She doesn’t want that ending, doesn’t want to leave this obstinate, sharp-tongued, hot tempered, confusing man as an enemy. “I can’t be a part of that endgame, Kylo.”

“Because you’re so committed to their cause?” He strides over until he looms over her, catches her chin in his fingers, tilts her face up.  His hands are tender, at odds with his tone. He knows what’s she’s thinking, and she hates the way his satisfaction shimmers with a poisonous glee at what he finds. He gentles his voice now, imbuing it with the thrumming persuasion of the Force as he leans down to her. “You knew those people for hours, days at most. You don’t owe them your loyalty.  You don’t owe them anything, Rey.”

His thumb smooths along her cheek, words threading through her mind. She stands, it feels weak to sit here like she’s some helpless waif, and though he rises with her, at least she’s on her feet.

“Don’t use that voice on me.” Rey catches his hand against her face, refuses to give into the urge to lean into the touch and instead pulls away. “I’m not going to stay on as your prisoner.” Frustration fizzles under her skin, how can he see into her mind and not understand her? “What happened to being free, Kylo? Becoming the new Snoke is just another form of captivity.  You hate it here.  You HATE it here!  You don't have to go with the Resistance, and you don't have to stay here.  You don't have to be the First Knight of Ren anymore."

“You’re out of your mind if you think the Resistance is just going to let me go.” His voice hardens back to it’s natural roughness. “You call them here and there's only one way this ends: My execution. Maybe here, maybe after they get me back to their base and torture me for a few weeks. They will not forgive what I’ve done.”  He pre-empts the rejection forming on her lips. “Democracy, remember? If the leaders, your leaders , want it, they’ll get it.” His mouth twitches as her anger at the prospect floods their connection and she growls aloud. “You don’t have to follow them. You don’t have to follow anyone. You’re strong; you could be so much more than just the last of a dying order.”

Even without the special inflection, his words offer a tantalizing glimpse of the future. Power to protect those she cares for. Respect for her accomplishments. To never be alone again. “I want to kill Snoke. That’s all this is about. The Resistance is just a way to ensure our success.” Rey shakes her head slowly, crosses her arms over her chest. “Do you have any better ideas? I swear that I will do everything in my power to keep you safe from them.” His doubt ripples through her mind, still questioning her convictions as if standing up to the leaders of the Resistance is somehow a greater undertaking than standing up to Snoke. “Look into my mind, if you want. I won’t let them hurt you.”  She holds out her hand to him, palm up, and their eyes meet.