* * * * * 

You had been struggling with the fact that you would have to see him for months. But even worse than that, the fact that you would have to fight him.

His presence still haunted your dreams, and had been since the last you'd seen him. A fact that you had kept from everyone except Finn. He understood, well . .  .

He kinda understood. He understood as much a person can understand, given the, um, circumstances.

In the time away from him, you had come to the unstable conclusion that you were drawn to him for a single purpose.

That purpose being, you were the only one who could bring him home to the light.

The call came though the battle room like lightning "General, we have a location on a Resurgent-Class Battlecrusier."

You ran over to the officer and glanced at the location, Chandrila.

You looked up as general Organa came up behind you, looking over your shoulder, sighing softly "He's going home."

You looked at the concern etched across her face and wondered allowed, only loud enough for her to hear "Why would he do that?"

This was the first time you'd seen the General seriously worried in all the time you had known her "I don't know. That's what scares me."

                                                  * * * * *

The sea in front of you seemed to go on forever. The breeze was light and warm. The cliffs tall and mountainous, all in all it was a beautiful scene laid out in front of you.

His frame was dark and brooding. His wild hair and his unruling identity tamed under his dense metal helmet.

To the untrained eye he was completely at ease standing overlooking the sea beating endlessly over the rocks below.

But you. . . You could feel his unease. His mind was running rampant along with the wind that wicked gingerly at your heels.

Your presence was well known, you imagined that your presence, much like his own to you, was identified before you could even see one another.

His head picked up slightly, the light shinning brightly against the silver on his helmet as he gingerly snuck a peek in your direction.

His mechanized voice made it easier to form words. With it, it was easier to believe that this was not the man who still kidnapped your dreams.

Still, his words did something to you. They slid past your guard and suck into your mind.

"If you've come to fight me Kenobi. I'd advise against it." He said softly. Your head tilted ever so slightly to the left.

You kept your eyes on him as you came closer, remaining a good four feet behind him "I'm not afraid of you Solo."

He flipped around like lighting, his posture aggressive "Ben Solo is dead, like his father." At this your posture visibly relaxed.

You could feel the anger swelling deep within him, you knew you could beat him when he was like this. Hasty, impatient, the dark side flowing through him.

A wild smile crossed your lips as you snear "Ben Solo isn't dead. He's just buried in all Snoke's lies." Again, his temper flared "Master Snoke has taught me more than Luke ever has."

Answering him came easier with every second that past "Maybe you are just a bad student."

His saber activated instantly, the red glaring off the black against his body, his words cold as ice as they chilled you down to the bone "We'll see about that."

He charged.

You couldn't think anymore of it, your mind was somewhere else, back to a time long ago.

Bright red glaring off a helmet as black as night. Anger coercing a man to do the unthinkable. Deception came easily, hate became second nature. . His soul was black and tarnished.

A face, a mask came into view, chilling you to the bone.

Darth Vader.

But just as quickly as the fear had coursed through your veins it dissipated.

A younger, kinder face appeared.

A face that shared features of the man under the helmet before you began to talk "Help him. He is strong with the force, you can help him find his way. . . Help my grandson. Please."

He was gone.

Your breathing was rough and raggid. Your thoughts swimming, but deep within you felt peace.

You felt the force.

Kylo's anger only intensified, fueling his rage. Fueling his power.

His saber falling down toward your face, instantly your body moved.

The hiss of saber against saber the only realization that you weren't dead.

You pushed hard against him, causing him to stubble backwards.

He charged once more, this time attacking from under, which you diverted easily.

Again the sizzle from the sabers concentrated you on the fight in front of you.

You felt your body move with ease, without thinking you attacked. Hit him with every attack you had. The whir and hum between the two creating the most violent dance ever created.

You'd never felt so alive.

Until, he stopped.

Deactivating and dropping his saber to the ground.

He came toward you.

His body rigid.

His helmet hissed its release.

His soft black curls fell into his face.

His soft brown eyes bore into your own.

The angry bright red of his scar greeted you like an unwelcome memory.

Confused you assaulted him. Bringing your saber down towards his soft black curls.

He caught it easily his large hand curling it protectively around your wrist. His other hand reaching up, holding your chin delicately.

The hum from your saber above you.

The soft green grass below you.

The soft green from your saber illuminated his face, and in a tender moment you closed your eyes.

Revealing a moment of vulnerability to the enemy.

A moment of trust.

His hand lifted, pulling your chin upwards. You open your eyes slowly, lost in the tenderness of the moment.

His voice washes over you like honey "Don't be afraid. I feel it too."