#posttlj

The newest chapter to my Reylo fanfic (rated T). If you want to check out the previous chapters, here’s the link to AO3!

Rey moves through the crawl space on her hands and knees, keenly aware of every sound she makes— the denting of the metal as she plants one palm, then the other, the rustling of her clothes, even her breath.

Rose is right next to her, moving as carefully as she is, often glancing back.

Rey keeps her eyes forward, seeing just as well through other senses. She feels the nervous energy of the rescues behind her, pictures them moving in twos or threes, shivering.

It’s not that cold in here but it is to them, most of them serving slaves who work in the casino. Osean’s a temperate planet, balmy days and warm nights, so the casino is open to the air. The rescues have never been in a place like this where the temperature is carefully controlled.

Both Rey and Rose stop dead when they hear a thump behind them, the metal of the crawl space vibrating. They twist back to see the rescues doing the same, everyone looking down the line of people packed tightly in the long, silver tunnel.

Rey hears whispers further down, but she can’t see who it is. There are nearly fifty rescues making their way through the space and three more on her team, one in the middle and two at the rear. Someone must’ve lost their balance, at least she hopes that’s what happened.

Rey and Rose keep still, eyes fixed behind them. After a minute, the rescues start to look ahead, a couple of them nodding.

Rey relaxes. She gives a nod, then turns forward, sharing a passing glance with Rose.

They’re both on edge, which is good. They should be. They’ve learned the hard way that a lot can go wrong on a rescue.

They begin moving again, slow and careful, hardly making a sound. They’re coming up to a grated section at the top of the crawl space, Rey glancing up as they near it. She can’t see much of the facility, but from what she can tell they’re currently under a massive laboratory with concrete walls and rows of sleek, cylinder tanks. They’ve been creeping for nearly ten minutes and haven’t heard a sound from above, not a droid, not anything.

What do you know? Rey thinks to herself. That shifty little bugger was right.

Their contact on this planet isn’t exactly a man who inspires confidence. He’s always nervous, bony fingers tapping incessantly, and he’s noncommittal, swearing by one thing then back-tracking a minute later. Even after two of their allies vouched for him, she was still wary.

But here they are, two-thirds of the way through the rescue, and all his information has proved spot on. When he suggested she take the rescues through this facility, she thought he was crazy. This is the most well-guarded place on the planet, a massive processing center that synthesizes spice into some of the most addictive drugs in the galaxy. The slavers employ a veritable army to patrol it, making sure nothing goes in or out that isn’t supposed to. She thought they might as well crawl into a death trap.

But so far, their contact was right. The entire facility is empty, shut down until parts come in to fix a problem with the filtration system. The whole place is dead, the machinery laying idle. Supposedly, there are fewer guards at the perimeter, though that has yet to be seen.  

Rey continues carefully through the crawl space, trying to be as quiet as possible. The facility may be empty, but they should err on the side of caution. She glances at Rose, catching her turn back from a look at the rescues. Rose squints then raises an eyebrow. Rey can read the expression as easily as if she were speaking— Two thirds of the way through and not a hitch. Since when are they so lucky?

Rey tilts her head, lips twisting wryly. Gotta catch a break sometime, she seems to say.  

Rose grunts softly, turning forward. They continue on, bit by bit, pressing one palm down, then another. The rescues follow their lead, careful to make as little sound as possible.

Despite the tenseness of the situation, Rey feels more at peace than she has in days. Slave rescues may be dangerous, but there’s sharpness to them, a simplicity of purpose. She has one goal— get these people to freedom— and there is nothing else until that goal is achieved.

It’s a welcome contrast to being on base where her problems infinitely more complex, not to mention exhausting. It’s like she’s living in a never-ending trial, constantly fielding debates, questions, angry accusations, rants about her unfitness for leadership, how she should step down from her position, even leave the Resistance entirely.

Rey holds in a sigh.

Not everyone’s been so hostile since she admitted the truth, but the coalition that’s formed against her is very powerful and vocal. Her throat tightens when she thinks of Poe…

She shakes her head, trying to clear her mind. She’ll have plenty of time dwell on these things later. Right now, she needs to focus on the mission. She forces herself back to her surroundings, the cramped crawl space stretching out ahead. They should be coming up on a right turn soon…

Suddenly, there’s a loud clang, followed by footsteps above.

Rey instantly lifts a hand, halting the rescues. She and Rose twist around, pressing an index finger to their lips. The rescues nod, then turn to repeat the movement for those behind them.

Rose and Rey exchange worried glances. They knew this was going too well.

The footsteps continue through the facility, not directly above them but a few meters to the left. It sounds like only one person.

Rey closes her eyes, reaching out through the Force, trying to hone in on the lifeform above. No one should be here. Their contact assured them of this. What reason would anyone have to be in the facility when it’s shut down?

Maybe one of the workers left something and has come to retrieve it? Or maybe there’s a question about the filtration system, the parts that are needed, and someone was sent to inspect? It could be any number of things…  

Rey takes a slow breath.

It’s ok, she tells herself. This is unexpected but not dire. They’ll just wait until whoever it is leaves.  

But she can’t quell a sick feeling in her gut. The footsteps are strange, not purposeful but slow like the person is just out for a stroll.

Suddenly, the steps stop. For a minute, there’s silence.

Then, the room comes alive, an electric hum filling the air.

Rey goes cold, fear cutting straight to the bone. She turns to Rose and is met with wide eyes. They both recognize that sound.

A lightsaber.

The footsteps continue across the room, heading to the other end of the facility. Rey lifts a trembling hand, pointing to a grated opening not far.

Rose nods but mouths be careful.

Rey starts forward, her movements slow but her mind racing.

A lightsaber? Who would have a lightsaber?

She trembles as she extends one hand then another, pressing her palms down carefully. She stops when she reaches the opening, a grated hatch just above her. She presses her palms against the grate, pushing up. There’s a soft rattle when she lifts it, and she instantly freezes.

It’s harder to hear the footsteps through the electric hum but from what Rey can tell, the person is on the other end of the facility now. She moves the grate slowly to the side, creating a couple feet of space before setting it down. She shifts, peeking her head through the opening.

The first thing she sees is a row of large, cylinder tanks, twice as tall as she is. They’re so close together they create a kind of wall, shielding her from view but also making it impossible for her to see much.

Rey rises slowly, planting her palms on the concrete floor and moving out of the crawl space. She’s between the row of cylinders and a wall of control panels, tubes and wires running along the floor, connecting the panels to the silver tanks. She quickly moves to one of the cylinders, crouching and pressing back against it. She looks up to see a labyrinth of grated walkways above, another a few meters above that, the room at least three stories high. She looks right then left, quickly catching sight of a ladder leading to the next floor.

If she gets higher, she’ll be able to see who’s here…

“Rey, Rey, Rey of the Resistance.”

She freezes at the sound of her name. 

So, after TLJ I was really inspired and wrote the short story, Unconditionally.

Since then I created several other pieces and finally decided to put them all together.  I’ve just posted the first chapter on AO3 and wanted to share it with those of you who responded so kindly to my first piece.

@ofstarkilling | POSTTLJ

     The doctor was silently working on some medical reports of the few dozen troopers she had to work on only hours prior. “Mads.” She callers over her medical droid as it floated next to her. “View my schedule for tomorrow morning.” The droid tweeted happily before the door to her lab opened. Turning around, the brunette looked confused at first before seeing the General. They seemed to have their hand covering their stomach in pain. Well, as much as the General would allow themselves too. “He did it again?” Her voice was sharp before she took a breath. 

The newest chapter to my Reylo fanfic (rated T). If you want to check out the previous chapters, here’s the link to AO3!

Colonel Russo snaps up.

The older officer had only been half listening before, but now he’s alert, eyes on the two young colonels across from him.

“He announced it this morning,” Colonel Talos is saying. “He’s closing his slave markets by the end of the week.”

Colonel Cera raises his eyebrows, surprised but pleased.

“Well then…” The pudgy officer rests a forearm on the table. “That makes our job easier, doesn’t it?”

“To a degree.” Talos tilts his head. “There are plenty of other slavers in the Colonies.”

“But Raiden must be the most prominent.” Cera leans in. “He’s the biggest merchant in the region.”

“He’s quite influential.” Talos nods. “It’s possible others could follow his lead.”

“Excellent.” Cera smirks. “First Chandrila, now this. If it keeps up, we’ll hardly have to enforce the law. The slave markets will close themselves.”

Russo narrows his eyes.  

“Don’t be naive.” The older man’s tone is paternal, like a father giving a warning to his sons. “The Core Worlds view slavery as a stain, but you’ll find the locals much less accommodating in the other regions. And…” He pauses, choosing his words carefully. “Raiden is a special case. No other slavers in the galaxy have such a pressing motivation.”

“Yet.” Cera stiffens, catching himself.

Every man in the room glances to the Supreme Leader, waiting for a reaction.

But he does nothing. He just stands with his hands clasped behind him. He’s unmasked but no one can see his expression. He’s facing the observation portal, studying the engineers and technicians as they scurry about the port. He appears not to hear the conversation, though everyone knows better.

He’s listening to every word. He does this in all the meetings, stands impassively to the side until abruptly breaking his silence.

Sylas studies him. He’s the only one who noticed him tense when the discussion turned to Raiden, but the movement was slight, nearly imperceptible.

Sylas shifts, his chair teetering under him. He’s crouched atop the seat, elbows propped loosely on his knees. He has the air of a bird perched on a branch, and he’s certainly as watchful as one.

He’s followed the conversation closely, eyes darting between the Supreme Leader and the three colonels, but he hasn’t said a word. He’s learned not to draw attention to himself in these meetings, so he usually does what he’s doing now— sits away from the table, several paces behind the colonels, observing.    

Of course, this could less about not wanting to insert himself and more of a natural inclination to follow Kylo’s lead. He’s noticed the Supreme Leader spends most of his meetings listening rather than speaking. It’s like he tries to fade to the background, though everyone in the room is keenly aware of his presence.

Yet he seems intent on minimizing the effect, picking a spot to remain silent and still. Sylas once asked him why he does this, and he’s thought a lot about his answer. He said half of leadership is managing politics, and to do that, one has to understand how people in the organization shape each other’s thinking. The best way is listen to their discussions, pick out the influencers from the followers.

After some reflection, Sylas realized he’s been doing the same thing most of his life. It’s his go-to survival strategy. Whenever he gets to a new place, he spends a lot of time studying the people, noting who to avoid and who to befriend, then using that knowledge to carve a safe niche for himself.

Sylas eyes the colonels. They’ve been silent for about a minute, long enough to make it awkward.

“Has there…?” Russo finally speaks. “Been any word about his stolen goods?”

“No.” Talos looks down. “But he just made the announcement.”

Another silence.

Colonel Cera licks his lips. It’s a nervous tick Sylas has noticed, the pudgy officer’s tongue peeking out whenever he’s uncomfortable.

“Time will tell.” Cera is careful not to look at the Supreme Leader. “If the girl’s true to her word, Raiden should follow through on his. And if she does it again to another slaver…”

“It would certainly put more pressure on them as we move forward.” Talos folds his hands in his lap. He’s a wiry little man and so young, the youngest colonel Sylas has ever seen.

“Perhaps she will.” Russo sits back. “At the very least, she’ll keep up her little rescues. And with pressure coming from two sides, the slavers will be in an increasingly weaker position.” The colonel flinches, realizing the implication of his words.

The First Order and the Resistance, working to achieve the same end…

Sylas presses his lips together. He studies the men at the table, all of them staring at their hands.

“At any rate…” Talos clears his throat. “If Coruscant and Chandrila have taught us anything, it’s that we can count on generous support from the locals in raiding the markets.”

“In the Core Worlds.” Russo dips his chin.

“Then, let’s keep up the momentum, shall we?” Cera sits up. “I say we hit the rest of the Core at once. We have the resources, or we should soon. When are the troops on Felucia set to clear out?” He glances at Russo.

“Yesterday, I believe…” The older man reaches for his datapad.

“And we’ve got the rest from Bandomeer now.” Cera turns to Talos. “We’ll be spread a bit thin, but with local reinforcements, it should be enough. We could be ready to start raids as early as next week.”

Sylas tsks, shaking his head.

Suddenly, all three colonels snap to him.

The boy straightens, startled. He hadn’t meant to do that out loud…

My submission for the @two-halves-of-reylo weekly challenge (Week 20: Thirst). This week’s theme came just in time for a first kiss! If you want to catch up on previous chapters, check out the previous ones on AO3. Thanks for reading!

The throne room is dead quiet. Eerily quiet.

Kylo Ren sits back in his seat, his forearms resting lightly on either side of him, his fingers curled over the edge of the throne, his feet firmly planted below.

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

Instead, he coolly observes his surroundings, the red walls reflecting on the shiny surface of the floor, the long walkway stretching out ahead, the oculus to the left. The room is almost 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 captains on their toes with the constant threat of his appearance. He finds things get done a lot more efficiently if he makes a point to regularly show up unannounced— to meetings, to inspections, to training exercises.

He always comes here a few times 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 other end of the room opens and General Hux strides through with his hands clasped behind his back. He walks steadily forward, that signature pompous expression coming into view as he does. 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. He clinches his fists.

Finally, Hux kneels, resting one arm on his knee and bowing his head 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, a reminder of his position.

“General.” He finally speaks through the distortion of his mask. Hux rises slowly, his jaw visibly tightened.

“Supreme Leader.”

Kylo rolls his eyes. It’s been nearly a year and the man still can’t manage to utter those words to him without a mocking undertone…

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

“Don’t waste my time, General,” Kylo barks suddenly, and Hux jumps a bit. “I assume you have a reason for requesting this meeting beyond the pleasure of my company.” For the briefest instant, the general’s face twists into a sneer of disgust, but he banishes the look quickly, turning his nose back up to the air.

“Of course,” he says flatly. “I wanted to speak to you about the Outer Rim invasions.”

“What about them?” Kylo asks impatiently.  

“They’re going quite well, aren’t they?” He tilts his head with a smirk. “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 in pride, as though he were personally responsible for this success. Kylo grips the edges of the throne.

“General.” His voice is clipped, irritated. “Tell me you didn’t come here to inform me of what I already know.” Hux’s eyes flit upwards in annoyance, then lower, icy blue and cutting with disdain.

“No.” He articulates the word curtly. “I came here to point out that we could be doing more. Obviously, clearing out this 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 with a little fire in his voice, unclasping his hands from behind his back. “We could be invading ten systems.”

“We could,” Kylo responds matter-of-factly. “But we’re not.”

Hux bristles at the curtness of this response, jerking his head back and blinking a couple of times.

“Why?” He blusters. “What possible reason could we have for not utilizing the full extent of our martial capabilities?” Kylo begins shaking his head before the general finishes speaking.

“So, you still haven’t learned your lesson.” He sits back on the throne, his masked face bearing down on the general coldly. “How disappointing.”

Hux grits his teeth in response, but says nothing.

“You still think about everything as though warfare were our only concern,” Kylo continues. “To you, we’re always at war.”

“But we are at war!” The general growls, his face growing red as he takes another step forward.

“No, we’re not.” Kylo’s voice is still detached, neutral. “We’re helping the governments of Outer Rim systems reestablish the rule of law. It’s not war. It’s military aid.” Hux immediately scoffs, rolling his eyes to the ceiling and shaking his head in disbelief. After a moment, he looks back down with a snide expression.

“Whatever you want to call it, Supreme Leader. Military aid. A martial engagement. Clearing out the garbage.” His lips twist into a sneer. “The fact is that we’re not operating at full capacity. Why drag out these invasions over the course of a year when we could finish them in less than three mon—”

“The fact,” Kylo cuts him off abruptly, “that the answer to that question isn’t obvious to you is the reason you still haven’t recovered your demerits since Garos.” At this, Hux immediately 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 Ren points an index finger at the general, leaning forward in his throne. “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 cuts off the general again. “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, bearing down on the general for a moment, before sitting back in his chair again. “We must maintain control,” he continues, “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.” At this, the general scoffs again, that sneer returning to his lips.

“Always so concerned with public opinion, aren’t you?” He spits out the question, his nostrils flaring. “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 up to his neck. He desperately fights for air, grasping at his collar. Long seconds pass without precious oxygen, and his face grows into an increasingly deeper shade of red, so red his head looks on the verge of exploding all over the throne room floor.

Finally, Kylo releases his invisible grip and the general falls to the ground, taking a giant gulp of air into his starving lungs. Kylo sits casually in his throne, observing Hux on his hands and knees before him, gasping and wheezing on the floor.

“One of these days,” the Supreme Leader begins dispassionately, “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 from the floor, his face twisted into a look of disgust and resentment. He begins to rise, opening his lips to speak, but Kylo cuts him of.

“Get out.” He commands tersely.

The general clenches his fists and straightens, his face tensing in defiance. He begins to speak again, but before he can get a word out, Kylo casts him across the throne room with one smooth flick of his right hand. Hux lands just in front of the walkway, skidding halfway across its smooth, shiny surface towards the exit.

“Make me repeat myself, and I’ll demote you.” Kylo’s distorted voice resonates, filling the empty expanse of the room.

Hux picks himself off the floor once more and immediately charges down the walkway, his shoulders visibly hunched into his ears. Kylo can practically hear him seething, still feel the resentment inside him like bits of glass grinding in his gut. Once he reaches the door, it whirs open and his black clad form disappears.

The moment the door closes, Kylo shoots up from the throne, grabbing his master comm at his side and walking a few paces forward.

“Cancel the rest of my appointments,” he commands at a growl.

“All of them sir?” A response crackles through almost immediately. Kylo sucks in an angry breath.

“If anyone else walks into this room today, they’re not walking out,” He warns through gritted teeth. He doesn’t bother to wait for a response, turning off the comm and returning it to his belt. He clenches his fists, walking forward a few more steps before abruptly reaching up to unclick his mask, pull it overhead, and 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, bringing a hand up to rub his jaw as his mind races with furious anxiety.

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 unfortunate 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 perhaps 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 as he pushes out an exhale, still manically pacing back and forth in front of the throne.

Hux is progressively 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 stops cold, his violent fantasy halting abruptly.

By a familiar feeling rising in his core.

At first, he’s caught off guard, his chest seizing at the unexpected interruption.

But after moment, he bows his head and closes his eyes, clasping his hands behind his back and focusing on that feeling, that warmth gradually welling from within. As he does, his rage abates, like boiling water removed from heat. The more her presence draws nearer, the more he feels himself become reset, his mind reverting to a calm, even base.

Finally, he feels her materialize a few paces to his left. He takes a deep breath, in and out, then opens his eyes and turns his head towards her.

Rey stands gaping 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 solemnly, taking in the scene as though she never expected in a million years to be here again. He feels her wrestle inwardly with a complex storm of emotions, so many he can’t identify all of them— there’s some anger. Disappointment. Also longing. Sadness.

Finally, she turns towards him, 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 as she does.  

“No Praetorian guard?” She looks over at him.

“I don’t need one,” he answers matter-of-factly. She doesn’t react to this, instead crossing her arms and turning to walk towards the oculus. He regards 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 at the same time.

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 those clear brown eyes, her tear-stained cheeks… except in his version, she always takes his hand. Then he draws her in closer to him, never taking his eyes off her—

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

“Not really,” he answers frankly, walking towards her. He stops just a couple of feet away.

“So, why are you here now?” She tightens her arms around her body, tensing subtly as she turns to face him. Kylo doesn’t immediately answer, instead studying her closely.

Something’s… off with her. She feels more guarded than usual. Maybe it’s the throne room? Being here again. He looks down at her silently for a few more moments, trying to read her. But she feels closed, armored against entry.

“I make it a point to meet certain people in here,” he answers finally.

“Like who?” She breaks eye contact, stepping around him to walk away. It’s almost as if she’s uncomfortable standing so close to him…

He turns slowly, eyeing her with suspicion.

“Like General Hux,” he replies, staying right where he is, watching her walk several steps further.

“He’s not giving you more trouble, is he?” She asks casually with her back still to him, slowing her pace, appearing to observe the room again. Kylo grunts.

“Hux is always trouble,” he says wearily.  

“What is it this time?” Rey turns to face him, her arms still crossed, looking up at him with a kind of detached interest. He narrows his eyes, still trying to read her. She looks relaxed but she feels on edge, nervous even. He cocks his head, examining her curiously.

“He wants to speed up the rate of Outer Rim invasions,” he informs her, taking a step forward. She immediately takes a step 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 with him again. He continues to examine her closely, growing increasingly curious. He twitches his jaw, considering what might be behind this…  

“And what did you say?” She asks, turning to the side and beginning to walk slowly towards the throne. He clasps his hands behind his back and steps towards the throne as well, exactly parallel across from her.

“I told him no,” he says decisively, his Force-senses heightened, attuned to her inner rhythm, that strange guardedness emanating from her.

“And I take it he didn’t like your answer.” She continues walking forward with measured steps.

“No, he did not.” Kylo suddenly stops and turns to face her. She does the same, arms still crossed. They stare at one another with what seems to him like an unnecessary cavern of space between them.

“What would you have told him?” He nods towards her. She immediately uncrosses her arms and raises an eyebrow, surprised by the question. She looks off thoughtfully, considering her answer, some of that guardedness abating as she does.  

“I would have said the same thing,” she announces definitively with a few nods of her head.

“Why?” Kylo asks, turning his chin up a bit, genuinely interested in her rationale. He resists the urge to step towards her, instead standing with his hands still clasped loosely behind his back.  

“Because…” she begins deliberately, choosing 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 for a moment. “You may be going too quickly as it is.” At this, his head jerks back and he unclasps his hands from behind him.

“What do you mean?” He asks, crossing his arms, wary but intrigued. Rey takes a breath and crosses her arms again, taking a cautious step towards him.

.

“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, looking down. She pauses for several seconds, then finally looks back up. “Take what you did in the Minos Cluster, for example. Now, I’m not saying you didn’t do a good thing,” she assures him hastily. “Taking down Riker Vos and his whole organization…” Her voice trails off, her eyes growing soft. “That was wonderful,” she commends him. “They were truly evil. The Minos Cluster, the entire galaxy is safer now without them.” He feels himself grow warm inside as Rey looks up at him with admiration. But the warmth subsides when he sees clouds gathering in her eyes.

“But…” He articulates the word expectantly, taking a measured step towards her. Rey looks down again, her shoulders visibly dropping.

“But,” she continues in a low voice. “You began the invasion with a series of aerial assaults, destroying all of the gang’s major bases of operation in one fell swoop.”

“So?” He shrugs his shoulders, confused by what she finds problematic about this.

“When you did that…” Rey still looks down, her emotions deepening into a strong wave of compassion. “You didn’t just kill all of Vos’s men.” She looks up with solemn eyes. “You killed all of his slaves too.” He immediately lets out a heavy sigh, his eyes drifting up to the ceiling.

“Those were innocent people.” He hears Rey take several steps towards him. He looks down to find her only a few feet away now, staring up at him intently, entreatingly. “They didn’t deserve to die. It wasn’t even their choice to be there.”

“I know that,” he answers in a clipped tone, trying to conceal irritation. “But innocent people always die in war, Rey,” he tells her dismissively. “That’s just the nature of it.”

“But they don’t have to!” Rey protests, stepping towards him again, eyes wide with passion. “Whether or not more or less innocent people die in a war is up to those in charge, the decisions that they make. Decisions like whether to blast everyone to bits indiscriminately in an aerial assault or go in with ground forces first and target selectively.” Kylo can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes and turning away from her as she finishes. He takes several steps towards the throne, jaw hardened, looking down. He stares at the floor for a minute, deep in thought.

How can he get her to understand the position he’s in? The things he must consider in these situations?

He ponders these questions for a moment before his head snaps up, a memory suddenly coming to mind. He turns back around towards Rey.

“Do you ever have an occasion to speak to my mother?” He asks abruptly. Her eyebrows instantly shoot up in surprise.

“Uh… y-yes,” she stutters in response. “Sometimes.” She gazes up at him with intense curiosity, shocked that he would even bring up the subject.  

“The next time you see her,” he continues wryly, “ask her about the Sallow Men.” She narrows her eyes at him.

“And what will she tell me?” She asks warily.

“The truth, I hope,” he answers, gazing at her evenly.

“And what’s that?” She tilts her head. Kylo purses his lips and looks down.

“When I was a boy and she was a senator,” he starts in a self-assured tone, stepping 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. I was on the Senate floor when they were debating about how to begin the attack.” Rey observes him with intense interest as he speaks, completely engaged.

“They argued about the very thing you brought up just a minute ago,” he continues, stepping towards her again. “Should they take out all the major bases at once 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 at him, eager for him to finish.

“So?” She raises an eyebrow. “What did the Senate decide?” He looks down at her coolly for a moment.

“They decided to go in with ground forces first,” he informs her. “And do you know what happened?” She shakes her head. He waits a few seconds, then leans down, bringing his face a little closer to hers.

“The Sallow Men used the slaves as human shields,” he reveals darkly, and her eyes immediately widen in absolute 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 at him in utter shock, deeply shaken by this. For a few seconds, she just gapes, horrified. Then she looks away, eyebrows furrowed, desperately trying to process through her emotions, the facts of the story, the implications of it.

He straightens, observing her as she processes. At first, she churns with uncertainty and doubt. But after a minute, he feels her harden with resolve. She looks back up at him 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 raises an expectant eyebrow. Kylo holds in a heavy sigh and shakes his head, but doesn’t answer her. Instead, he turns and starts walking towards the throne again.

“You know...” He hears Rey follow 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.” At this, he halts abruptly. She continues walking, circling around to plant herself in front of him, fixing her eyes firmly 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 voice darkens with warning. “A lot. Much more than any Rebellion or any Resistance. Maybe you shouldn’t be so careless with their lives. Because one day, they might just notice. And then, well…” She cocks her head sharply, raising a knowing eyebrow.

It takes Kylo a few seconds, but eventually the heavy weight of realization, what she’s implying, descends upon him. When it hits, he immediately steps around Rey, approaching the throne, bringing a hand up to rub his jaw, suddenly deep in thought.  

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 throughout the galaxy, he never once considered the idea of a slave uprising.

But is it even conceivable? 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 absently, storming with thought. Without really thinking about it, he turns around and sits down on the throne, leaning over to rest his forearms on his knees.

He looks up briefly when Rey moves towards him, taking a seat on a step nearby.

Kylo glances over at her, deliberating in his mind…

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. It will take twice, maybe three times as long. And they’ll lose more of their own forces.

He sighs and brings a palm to his eyes.

And if he chooses to go this way, Hux will most definitely use it to 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 behind him. He sighs again, 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 for a moment.

Then suddenly, he opens them again, sitting up and turning his head slowly to Rey sitting not far. She’s staring down at the floor, seeming lost in thought.

“So, what about you?” He asks abruptly. She immediately sits up, a bit startled, and looks over at him, eyebrows knitting in confusion.

“What were you thinking about just before the bond happened this time?” Her eyes instantly widen and she looks back down, a pang of fear seizing her chest. Kylo tilts his head, studying her, intrigued by this reaction.

“Is that not what we’re doing here?” He shrugs, black eyes fixed on hers. “I just assumed that’s why you were asking me about why I was here today.” He gestures flippantly at the room. Rey shakes her head violently, still looking down.

“No.” Her answer is strangely emphatic. “That’s not what I was doing. I was just… curious.” She starts rubbing her right thumb and index finger together anxiously. He narrows his eyes.

“It was your idea, you know,” he reminds her wryly. “You’re the one who said we should start sharing what we were thinking of just before the bond happens.” Rey immediately shoots up to her feet and walks away.

“Well, it was a stupid idea,” she snipes at him, crossing her arms, sulking with her back to him. He feels her grow intensely guarded again, armored, like when she first arrived.

Now Kylo’s very intrigued.  

His jaw slides to the side as he studies her, a suspicion brewing in his mind. He rises slowly from the throne, never taking his eyes off Rey, and moves towards her cautiously. She visibly tenses at his approach.

“I’m not sure it was,” he tells her. “The more we learn about the trigger, the closer we get to controlling it.”

“We can’t control it,” Rey snaps at him, twitching her shoulder, clearly irritated. She turns and starts heading towards the oculus, seeming to want some space between them.

Kylo follows her.

“You don’t know that,” he insists. “It certainly doesn’t hurt to try. And you’re the one who’s always searching for the bond’s purpose. You don’t think this will help you discover it?” Rey slows as she lets out a low groan, hunching her shoulders into her ears. She stops and rolls her head back, turning her face up to the ceiling, exasperated. He pauses just a few feet behind her.

“Come on, Rey,” he goads her. “It’s not that hard. Just tell me.” She twitches in irritation again. Suddenly, she whips around with a caustic glare.

“You know, you didn’t exactly tell me what you were thinking about before bond,” she accuses, jutting her chin up.

“What do you mean?” He shakes his head in irritation. “The Outer Rim invasions. Hux wanting to speed them up like an idiot.”

“And that’s all?” She raises an eyebrow in doubt. He stares back at her evenly for a few seconds. Finally, he looks away.

“And… the fact that I can’t seem to keep Hux under control,” he admits quietly. Kylo tenses inwardly, hating the sound of those words uttered out loud.

“Well, fancy that.” Rey grunts softly. He looks up to find her eying him, amused. “You’ve finally found something beyond your control.” A subtle smile teases her lips. He rolls his eyes.

“Fine,” he says dryly, crossing his arms. “Now you know what I was thinking about. Your turn.” She immediately stiffens and turns her back to him. She feels rushed, frenzied, like she’s desperately searching her mind for what to say.

“I was thinking…” She lets her voice trail off, tensing. “I was thinking about when I healed you in the training room. I was wondering…” She pauses, twitching her shoulder. “I was wondering if I could do it again on someone else.”

Kylo stares at Rey, gaping.

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 incredulously for a few moments, then looks down, considering how to approach this, what to say next. After some thought, he moves towards her, stopping just at her back. She’s still visibly tensing.

“Rey.” He draws out her name. “Are you sure?” His tone is knowing, as though the answer is obvious. She immediately scoffs and whips around to face him.

“What? Do you think I’m lying to you?” She protests, looking up at him snidely, barely concealing a flash of alarm.

“That’s exactly what I think,” he states confidently, staring down at her. Her eyes widen for a moment but she soon resumes her cutting glare, her face hardening in defiance.

“Well, you’re wrong,” she spits at him, then abruptly turns a heel, walking towards the oculus again.

“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 and shakes 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 to this.

She sighs heavily, her head bowed and her arms crossed. She shifts awkwardly a bit, 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 for a moment, sensing her vulnerability, a tender spot.

“Ok,” he says quietly, uncrossing his arms. He takes a careful step forward. “Would it be easier to show me?” She turns towards him, her eyebrows knitted in confusion, but she immediately registers his meaning when she sees his face.

“Oh, no.” She scoffs, bristling at the very idea of his suggestion. “Definitely not.” He tilts his head.

“Seems like a perfectly good alternative to me.” He squints at her, half in challenge, half in suspicion.  

“No. Not happening,” she decides with a definitive shake of the head before stepping to the side and 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 continues to walk away.

“I’m calling in my favor,” he announces abruptly. She halts and twists to face him, confused.

“What favor?” She demands.

“Remember the conditions you agreed to? When I let you into my mind to see…” his voice trails off, and he gulps, fighting the sudden tightness in his throat. Rey’s eyes immediately widen in recognition. They drop to the floor a moment later when she realizes what this means, the favor he’s asking for. She grows uneasy, furrowing her eyebrows and continuing to look down, seeming to search for way out of this.  

“But—” She starts and immediately stops, not knowing where to go.

“But what?” He probes. “It’s not comparable?” He raises an eyebrow. She glances up with flash of exasperation, her lips straightening into a thin line. She opens her mouth as if to speak, but still has nothing to say. She looks down again, pulling her arms more tightly around herself.

“It’s perfectly comparable,” he begins casually, stepping towards her. “You have something, something that was on your mind when the bond brought us together, that you can’t articulate out loud. So, you let me inside your head. It’s the exact same situation, just reversed.” Her shoulders seem to progressively sink as he approaches, weighed down by the miserable acceptance that he’s right. “Perfectly comparable,” he repeats, stopping 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 become small enough to 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 heavily, her eyes still fixed on the floor, self-conscious and deeply reluctant. “What was it you told me? All you have to do is stand there and think.” She groans a bit at hearing her own words reflected back at her. She shakes her head and sighs again.

“What do you say?” He asks quietly.

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 strong 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. He reaches out to rest a hand on her shoulder but the moment he touches her, she immediately jerks back, practically jumping out of her skin. He instantly withdraws his hand and takes a step back from her, confused and not a little hurt by her reaction. She still refuses to look up at him.

“Forget about it,” he says in a low voice, regarding her softly. “If makes you feel like this, then I don’t want to know.” He lingers for a moment, still baffled by her behavior, then 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 behind him. He turns around to see her approaching him swiftly, her face both urgent and resolved.

“Do it,” she repeats, stopping just in front of him. “Get it over with. Come on.” She gestures towards herself with a hand, looking up at him 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 squares her shoulders, looking down, preparing herself. She stands, tense and ready, for a few seconds as he looks at her, perplexed, reconsidering whether or not this is a good idea…

“Come on!” She practically shouts this, her head snapping up in exasperation. “What are you waiting for!?”

“Alright, alright,” he answers quickly, struggling to adapt to her sudden urgency. She closes her eyes and looks down again, bracing herself.

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 why 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, almost entirely unfamiliar. It’s a strange kind of disassociation, seeing himself through another person’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 down over her, bullying her. Painful jolts of shock and hurt rip through her and he looks pleased with himself, his face twisted into a self-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 out 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 towards him 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 consciously aware of at the time. It’s only now, after hours upon hours of reflection, that she realizes what happened was only a shadow, a disappointment.

And now that she’s finally 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 that 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 a thick coat of rage, a practiced, purposeful anger converted from the never-ending stream of pain seeping out of his broken soul.

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 about 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 and insecurities. 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 felt more content, more protected, more loved—

In an instant, Rey’s thoughts grind to a halt and she jerks back, gasping, her eyes flying open. It’s so jarring, that Kylo reacts without thinking, violently ejecting himself from her mind.

But not before he felt 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 very first time, she recognized it for what it was.

Love.

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

She looks up at him, clear brown 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 a gloved 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, slipping her fingers behind his neck and into his hair.

They open their mouths into one another, 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, and then the next.

It’s perfect.

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

He releases her lips, but keeps her close, still pulling her into him with one arm behind her waist and a gloved hand cupping the back of her head. They’re both panting and trembling, and she’s starting to cry, tears pouring over her full, soft cheeks. She still pushes against his chest with her palms but he resists, drawing her in closer, bringing his lips to her ear.

“Don’t fight this, Rey,” he begs her, his voice just above a whisper. “Please. Please.” The last word comes out breathless, almost desperate.

She starts to cry harder, her shoulders shaking with soft sobs. He pulls back, just an inch away from her, framing her face with both hands, his thumbs at her cheeks, brushing away her tears. He lingers for a moment, eyes pleading, before he rests his forehead on hers and starts shaking his head gently.

“Don’t fight this,” he repeats, almost wearily. “Please. Please. You’re always…” He scoffs softly, pulling back just enough to look her in the eyes, her beautiful brown eyes, still glistening with tears. “You’re always searching for the bond’s purpose, what it’s for…” He abruptly drops a hand to her waist again, pulling her in close, his lips descending to her ear.

“This is what it’s for.” His voice is hushed but impassioned. “It’s for us to be together. Like this. Part of you has to know that.” He feels her body begin to shake more violently, a fresh round of sobs overtaking her. He pulls back again, 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 up to his, barely visible through her 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, her breath caught in her chest. She stares up at him, her lips parted, eyes wide with fear.

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 from shock, his mind not fully convinced that what just happened was real.

The newest chapter to my Reylo fanfic (rated T). If you want to check out the previous chapter’s, here’s the link to AO3!

Kylo Ren makes his way through the winding annals of the cave, walking slowly, purposefully.

The only sound is the dull thud of his boots against the cracked earth and the occasional pitter-patter of tiny feet, creatures scurrying across the rocky walls.  

He’s deep underground, at least a hundred meters below the surface. It should be pitch black, impossible to see even a hand in front of his face.

But this is a kyber cave.

The narrow tunnels are illuminated by the bluish-white light of the crystals clustered all along the walls and the ceiling several feet above his head. In some areas, it’s so bright he has to close his eyes, protect them from the painful glow of the larger clusters jutting out from the side, from above.

It’s a relatively large deposit, covering about a half mile radius within the labyrinthine tunnels.

Finally.  

Finding kyber in this galaxy has become next to impossible. He has over a dozen teams searching, searching everywhere, turning over every rock in every shithole planet in the Mid Rim, the Outer Rim, the colonies, the unknown regions, everywhere.

And yet, they still don’t have what they need. Not even close.

It’s not surprising, really. In the past several decades, the largest kyber deposits have disappeared en masse. First, it was the Empire, ransacking every last crystal from the caves of Illum to create the Death Star. Then it was Snoke, who converted his massive trove of kyber into Starkiller Base.

Kyber has always been the galaxy’s rarest mineral, but now it must be on the verge of extinction, or at least Kylo can only imagine so given how infuriatingly difficult it’s been to find. At the rate they’re going, it will be years before they mine enough to finish Starkiller 2.

Kylo groans inwardly.

And it’s not just finding the damn stuff. Kyber is maddeningly difficult to mine, the only mineral that actively resists removal, rooting itself deeper into its source. They need to start the extraction here as soon as possible.

He just needs to make sure Rey’s crystal isn’t here first.  

He continues forward at a measured pace, closing his eyes every now and then to concentrate, to listen, listen for that voiceless song.

Who knows what it will sound like? Maybe the wind whipping through trees. Maybe the low hum of the ocean floor. Or maybe shifting sands, grains pouring over one another, creating a soft crackle. That would suit her…

But he won’t know until he hears it. And he’s been searching this cave for an hour and hasn’t heard it yet.

Perhaps it’s because her crystal isn’t here. Or perhaps it’s because he can’t concentrate worth a damn. He tries to focus, to clear his mind, empty it of all thoughts and images.

But he can’t go five minutes without being there all over again.  

Kylo slows his pace until he halts outright, bowing his head and closing his eyes.

God, it really was exactly as he imagined it. So, strange… what was once a fantasy is now a memory. Real. Dynamic. Sensual. He can almost feel her soft lips on his, her fingers running through his hair, her trembling body in his arms. She just melted, gave into everything she was feeling, gave herself to him so completely, so utterly.

It was perfect.

Almost.

POST: TLJ  |  @theraggedsaber

          ★ She stood still staring at her droid the new news scrolling across her screen. ‘Supreme Leader Snoke has been assassinated by the Resistance Fighter. Long Live Supreme Leader Kylo Ren.’ She moved slowly, all the work she had been busy with seemed not as important anymore. She could only vacantly hear the concerned beeps and swells from her droid as the others worked around her. “... I have a feeing we are walking on a tightrope, Mads....” Her brown hues looked up at the droid. “...He’s changed.... and now this...” Biting her thumb she moved closer to a small window looking out at the stars before them as the ships grew closer. He was coming home, but would it be the man who left earlier? or a stranger?

          She moved silently around the new lab, since her old one was destroyed the young doctor was given a small room to make her own. A lot of the equipment she needed for her research was missing, but it seemed rather well equipped for her medical practices. She bit her lip going over everything. If her thoughts were right... the first order may have stopped her production on her studies on virology. She would have to check with General Hux. She paused feeling a familiar shift in the air. Her heart speeding up like a hummingbird. She felt him, just as she knew he could sense her. Although she was weaker than him by an incredible amount she could still feel his pain, even if he would deny it.

@galactic-emo-kid | POSTTLJ

      ★ Lilith was silent for a while before speaking, the silhouette of the women before her chilled her to the bone. “... Supreme Leader...” the words were strange coming from her mouth. “I have the report of the numbers we lost and injured in the last attack on the resistance...” She held the holopad in her arms.