You have not seen Kylo for a week now. He dressed, and left you in his bed, confused and emotional.
The knights do not know where is. Or if they do, they've been lying to you.
Kylo's memory is ingrained in your brain. You cannot get the fear, and the twisted sense of heartache to leave your system. None of your attempts to forget have worked. You hate that there's pity in your heart for him. You don't understand the memory, or any of the context to it. You despise that Kylo retracted from you afterwards. You want to ask him a million questions. You want to learn about Ben Solo. Is he still in there?
Back with the Resistance, you'd been told in confidence a little of his history. There were many arguments over the ability to bring Ren back to the light. LJ had never mentioned his father having hate in his heart, let alone enough to attempt to kill Kylo.
All you know is that Kylo Ren was once Ben Solo. The Dark Side corrupted him. Leia would take him back in a heartbeat, though of course she would. She possesses no evils. The thought that she is Kylo Ren's mother is... unfathomable. You hadn't thought about it much. But now that you are, you feel like it's your duty to talk to Ren. To explain forgiveness. To encourage atonement.
To stop your mind from dwindling, you've mostly been holed up in the den, wrapped in blankets and drawing. Your notebook is beginning to look very worn. You've had to chuck it at the knights a few times - if they were being particularly annoying.
Currently, you're lying across the sofa on your front, with Ushar sat on top of your calfs.
"You're so heavy." You groan, trying to wriggle him off like you have been for the past two minutes. Your legs are beginning to tingle.
He finds this a lot more funny than you do.
You glare at Cardo, who sits opposite - sharpening a sword. The noise of the blade irks you but you're far more focused on the weight trapping your legs. You motion with your hands at him to do something.
Unfortunately, Cardo is not especially inclined to help you. He seems to be perfectly content in watching the whole thing unfold, with little plans to stop it.
"You're a big girl, you can take it." Ushar returns, his smug voice filling the room as he gets comfy on your legs and leans back into the cushions.
You groan under your breath, deciding to ignore him and return to your sketch. This double page spread depicts the Coruscant underground in all of it's intricacies. You have been working on the background details for the past week and only now got to the foreground.
"Fine, stay put. It's actually kind of comfy." You say, knowing that the moment you tell him to do something - he will want to do the exact opposite.
"I had something to do anyway." He is on his feet and crossing the room to sit with Cardo within seconds.
You can't contain your victorious grin as you roll onto your back and stretch your body out on the length of the sofa, arms above your head. You flop dramatically afterwards, looking at the two of the men who have become such close companions.
Surprisingly, you and Cardo have a lot in common. Perhaps that is why you clash so often.
Ushar is simply fun to mess with, and while you rarely see Kuruk, when he does bless you all with his presence you often share inside looks due to Ushar's ridiculousness.
Vicrul has not been as friendly - if you could even call it that - as he was the day he offered you to join them in Coruscant. You think you screwed your chance with him the moment you drove that dagger into Menace's throat.
Trudgen is much flirtier now that Ren is not breathing down your neck, though he has always been playful. You tease him for his mullet of auburn red hair, (which is pointedly 'not ginger') nicknaming him 'redhead'. It only seems fair since he calls you 'sweetheart' so often. Drives you crazy. Ushar does the same. In fact, most of them have given you pet names and it makes your blood boil.
Cardo had informed you that T and Vic are working, so you probably wouldn't see them for the next couple of days unless someone gave up the newly changed combination to the lair.
You like to call it the lair. It makes the room feel silly evil instead of murderous evil. The room is too echoey and dark for your liking. Like a basement that is far too tall.
You also cannot erase the image of Cardo's distain when you shot his playing card between his fingers. Since the mission, no guns have been handed to you.
However, you do have full access to the weapons in the training area now. Though, both Cardo and Vicrul have made it frustratingly clear you are not to take any from that room. So, being burned out and annoyed with the intricacies of this Coruscant drawing - you decide to train instead. Which has taken up the other half of your time spent this week.
"Who would like the honour of joining me in the ring for a bit?" You eye the men. Cardo's short buzzed hair gives the full military affect alongside his perfectly sculpted muscles, so you'd rather take on Ushar's more casual body with his harmless ear length dark blonde hair. Soft, in a way. You can tell he gets a haircut often, to maintain the layers and wave of it, and it makes you laugh to think of him sat in a barbers chair.
Cardo's face lights up. Training is his favourite thing. You've bonded mostly over guns, but since you need little practice in that area you've mostly been sparring with him - and losing. You cross your fingers that Ushar wants to join you more than he does.
"Yeah, go on then." Ushar does not sound particularly thrilled. He's honestly quite lazy until it comes to actually going out and getting blood on his hands. That's the part he likes. It's chilling to think of him as someone capable of such things, and, worse... enjoying it.
"Oh, thank the Gods," you say with relief, standing up to join Ushar as he heads for the door, "I'm not sure my ego could handle losing to his ass again."
"Don't worry, sugar, I'll get ya' next time." Cardo's gravely voice calls from behind you as you exit the room. You laugh in response, catching up with Ushar who seems to be in a rush.
"Since when have you been so eager to practice?" You have to jog to reach him as he has already breached the training rooms door.
"Cardos been gettin' on my nerves." Ushar holds the door for you with his finger on the button.
You nod a thank you and walk toward the shower room for a change of clothes. Ushar follows. "What's he done now?"
"Nothin' in particular." He sounds like he's shrugging, but you don't check.
You press him, "Oh yeah?" it's worryingly easy to get Ushar to spill his guts.
You both enter the washroom, the smell of cleaning products and false fresh air filling your lungs. You wander to the locker you'd been told is now yours, and pick out a fresh pair of workout clothes.
"He's too hard on you." Ushar says after a moment, grabbing his own change of clothes and pulling on his top from the nape of his neck. You avoid looking at his naked torso.
"That's his job." You pull your clothes off too, both of you staring at the lockers instead of each other.
"No," hesitation laces through his words, "it isn't."
You shake your head, pulling your top on.
"Well, he thinks you baby me too much." You say, a smile creeping onto your face as you imagine Ushar's inevitable offence that is destined to come.
Sure enough, he scoffs. "Baby you. Yeah, ok. We'll see about that."
You tug your leggings up, and pull on trainers, sitting on the bench behind you. Ushar is still shirtless, but wearing sweatpants now. You look him in the eye, calling his bluff. He stares back, his eyebrows raised.
"Fine." You give in, tying your laces with an insinuating tone to your voice.
"Don't give me that." Ushar points at you, his serious face on. "I know what you're doing."
"I'm not doing anything." You smile innocently, but cant contain the toothy grin that escapes at his baffled look.
He only turns around, ignoring you, to pull his trainers on. He makes a move to head out and you tut at him. "Put on a shirt!"
"Ah, of course. We can't be having such distracting sex appeal in the ring." Ushar boasts, that knowing smirk rearing as your eyes drop to his abs. His happy trail of dark blonde hair points down, in between his V-line. He wears his sweatpants far too low on his hips for your liking. You look back up quickly.
"If it's distracting it's only because it disturbs me." You say, feigning disgust as you screw up your nose.
He blinks at you. "You are such a bad liar."
"Let's go." You stand and grab a top from his locker, throwing it at him. The fabric smacks into his chest and he catches it absentmindedly, smirking at the blush that has raised on your cheeks.
You push past him, deciding not to wait.
When you get to the ring, you begin wrapping your hands without him.
Ushar saunters across the room, and you want to kick yourself for accidentally inflating his ego.
"Stop looking at me like that." You frown at his pleased, lazy face. He flashes you a cocky grin, finally reaching you and wrapping his own hands with experienced precision.
He finishes before you, watching you struggle before taking your hands and the wraps in his. "Let me show you."
You swallow your retort, relaxing your tensed hands as he shows you his technique.
"There. Now you won't break any bones." Ushar lets your wrists go with a wink, before taking his stance opposite you.
"Hows about I show you some self defence?" He motions for you to come closer, so you do, a cautious rigidness to your person.
"Like, getting out of holds and stuff?" You say, as Ushar begins to spin you around by your shoulders. You let him manoeuvre you, and his large arm wraps around your body pulling his forearm up to your neck and securing it with his other arm wrapped over it like an anchor.
"Exactly, gorgeous. Now, how are you gonna get outta this one?"
You try to breathe evenly. You're very close, your back is touching his chest. How to get out of this? His arm is securely locked around your neck, so by instinct you grip his forearm with both your hands.
You try to think. What does he need to maintain this?
Balance.
You bend your knees and step slightly to your side, sweeping your leg around the back of both his legs so that you've got the upper hand. Now, you're holding his arm and with your leg behind his - you could, theoretically, flip him.
Ushar's low laugh rings in your ear. "Good." He sounds surprised. "What now?"
Damn. You hadn't thought that far ahead.
"Um. I don't know..." You admit, surveying your position. Hip to hip, your elbow to his chest... What could you do?
"Push back with my elbow and flip you over my leg?"
"Exactly!" You can practically hear him grinning. "Of course, with someone of my talents, you shouldn't expect to be able to-"
You flip him, mid sentence, knowing that catching him off guard would be the key. His body hits the mat with a thud and you suppress a giggle as you turn around.
"I let you have that one." He purses his lips together, holding his arm out for a hand up.
You grab it, and yank him up from the floor.
"Turn again for me sweetie, I'm gonna show you another." He nods his head, expecting you to obey instantly.
You just stare at him with your hands on your hips. "I just floored you and you're still calling me sweetie?"
"What can I say? I'm a gentleman."
"This is the babying he was talking about." You mutter, turning around and settling against his chest as he grips his arms around your neck again. This time, his grip is stronger, one hand at the back of your head and the other locked onto his bicep to anchor the hold again.
"You're gonna step in a similar way, okay?"
You nod, stepping to the side.
"Alright, now I want you to hook your leg between mine from the back, but you're gonna swing your whole body round." Ushar loosens his hold, tapping your left elbow. "Use this. Your arm should be behind my back, and then you're free to use your other arm to grab my leg. Make sense?"
"Sure." You swallow. This seems harder, having to lift his bodyweight. But you're determined you can do it.
The first few tries have you confused, as his hold is too strong and you struggle to get the right angle to sweep him.
Eventually, you manage to topple him over, but he takes you down with him and you both lie on the floor laughing at how you cannot do it.
"Good enough." He playfully pushes your head away, sitting up.
You groan, and roll onto your front. "Do I get to punch you now?" You ask, leaning on your elbows as you watch him get to his feet and cross the ring.
"Sure. If you think you can handle me." He throws a glance your way. You can't tell if he's serious or not.
"Please. I could do this with my eyes closed, Ushie." You jump to your feet with a wicked smile, tempting him to come and get you with the nickname.
"Ushie?" He mocks shock, his mouth falling open as he turns toward you, "That's it." His face terns stern.
Before you know it he is charging for you, his arms around your legs as he pulls you over your shoulder. You scream, your head upside down, your hair falling away from your face.
"Put me down, right now." You smack his back with your palms, kicking your legs. Ushar keeps his arm hooked around the backs of your knees.
"What's the magic word?" He sings, jigging you up and down on his shoulder like you're a toy.
"Fucking hell. Please." You grit your teeth, balling your hands into fits in his shirt.
"Ah, there we go." He kneels to let you down, "so polite!"
You scramble away, fists up, motioning your head for him to follow your lead. "Now I really want to punch you."
"Good luck with that." Vicrul's growl echoes across the training room.
You snap your head in his direction.
He stands casually, with his hands in his pockets, surveying the two of you from the middle of the room. His helmet is off, meaning you get a rare glance at those dark eyes of his. Something seems to glisten in them. You just can't quite put your finger on what.
"Aren't you supposed to be busy?" You relax your fighting stance, dropping your hands to your sides.
He nods at you.
"She means, what do you want and why are you interrupting us?" Ushar says grouchily, leaning on the edge of the ring.
"Movement has been recorded in the Cademimu sector of the Outer Rim. Kuruk suspects the Resistance. But I see you are busy, and I shall leave you to it." Vicruls face is unchanging. You reach out through the Force, trying to grasp an emotion - only to come up blank.
The Resistance is still fighting. You don't know what to think. What if the Knights have found them and your friends are close to being executed?
"I can help." You say without thinking, your lips moving faster than your brain.
"With a scout on a small jungle moon? It will be boring and we will most likely come up with nothing. You will stay here." Vicrul decrees, turning to leave without waiting for your answer.
The Resistance could be there. Your friends. Alive. What if you found them? You could return to them. How would you slip away from the Knights? What if they found them before you did?
Either way, you have to be there.
"I'm coming with you." You interrupt his exit and he stops. Ushar places a hand on your shoulder supportively.
"She does more good out with us than cooped up in here." He says with a shrug as Vicrul sends him a death glare.
"No. She doesn't." Vicrul squints, a mean hiss in his voice indicating that he is referencing the last time you came with them.
"Was I supposed to just let that creep feel me up? Because it seems like you would have preferred that." You snap, pent up frustration finally exploding.
"Of course not." He steps forward, angrier than you expected, teeth bared. "There was a plan. We stick to the plan."
"You didn't tell me the plan!" You breathe, exasperated, your hands in the air.
How is it somehow your fault that they timed the explosion incorrectly?
"There is a level of trust that must be executed in times such as those." Vicrul seems to be trying to keep his cool, but the Force is dragging on your body - trying to warn you. "A group bond that allows us to work efficiently. You are not a part of this."
"Thankfully not." You retort, climbing off the ring to head toward the locker room.
"It is settled then." Vicrul calls after you.
"Yes, it is." You stop your stride, turning to meet his intense gaze. "Next time I accompany you, I will be informed of the plan. Trust goes both ways, Vic."
Vicrul crosses the room to where you are, anger exploding under his skin. You freeze up.
"Trust you?" He lets out a shallow laugh, his voice darkening. "I know what you are."
Your blood runs cold. He knows what you are. It makes sense that he does. You haven't removed your padawan braid. You're surprised they're aware of what it means, though.
"And I, you." You say, your voice significantly smaller. "And if I must live and work with you, I may as well become one of you."
Tears threaten to spill, but you blink them back. Your words are a lie, but they are far more truthful than you'd like. You've killed people. How are you any better than them? You're all murderers here.
"You're a good shot, Darlin'. I'm sure a good fuck, too." Vic's voice gets low, venomous, "But that does not equip you to be one of us."
You feel sick.
"What the hell does that mean?" You practically whisper, scared of the answer. Does he truly believe that Kylo Ren wants you as an apprentice because you're a good fuck?
"How about we all calm down," Ushar steps in between the two of you, "for a minute." He looks at you. "Yeah?"
You gulp back your emotion, brewing in your chest, trying to shove it away. It settles in your stomach uncomfortably.
"Calm down?" You sigh, and cover your face with your hands for a moment. "I didn't ask for this."
"Neither did we, Sweetheart." Vicrul grits his teeth, his jaw cocking. "At least it'll be fun to watch you crash and burn."
"No, you don't get to do that!" You vent, your throat choking on your words, "Quit acting like I'm here purely for your entertainment." You're reminded of all the times you've been embarrassed in front of them.
Vicruls hand snatches your wrist, and he yanks you forward, snarling at you. Ushar is fast to place his hand on Vicruls chest, pushing him to take a step back. He doesn't. "Let go, Vic."
"She needs to be taught not to run her goddamn mouth." His gaze has turned murderous in the split second you looked away. The Force is building up a storm around the two of you.
"Let go." You try to free your hand from his grip, to no avail. Dark, thunder clouds are collecting at your feet.
"For fucks sake." Ushar steps back, hurrying toward the door. "You two have such bad tempers." He leaves the room with a mutter about getting someone.
Anxiety creeps into your mind, murkier thoughts panicking you.
"What is the matter with you?" You hiss, pulling at your wrist again. Vicrul yanks you closer, his other hand grabbing your jaw.
"You know," he says slowly, "we all had to be initiated."
You rip your jaw from his hand, but he grabs it again. You pull at his arms, grunting when he doesn't move. His fingers are hurting your cheeks.
"Maybe I will take you with us." His mouth spreads into a wicked grin, and you've never been so terrified of a smile. "And lets say we bump into our little friends in the Resistance..."
"Don't." You warn, jerking your head away. The excitement in his eyes at the thought of murdering them...
"Oh, don't worry, darlin'." Vicrul pulls you forward by the face, and you push against the ground to no avail. He leans his mouth down by your ear. "It won't be me gettin' to do it."
His breath hits the side of your face and the smell of him, bonfire and sandalwood, fills your nose.
You almost don't want to ask. But you do it regardless. "What do you mean?"
Vicrul places a small kiss on your cheek before he releases you. You back away from him instantly, wiping at your cheek where he'd kissed you. You knew he'd done it to make you mad, so you waited for his answer patiently instead.
Vic's grin gets bigger as he turns around and leaves, having you run over everything that has been said in your head, trying to understand what he meant.
You watch cautiously as his broad shoulders are cut off by the door, finally free to escape to the showers.
You cross the room quickly, eager to get away from the space - the bad energy in the Force was suffocating.
You figured out the lock on the main door, meaning you can shower in peace. The steam clears your mind, the warmth allowing you safety to think.
Your heart feels wrenched, and sad, thinking of Kylo. You know so little about him. He's scared of opening up, that much is obvious. Maybe he was never taught how to. Maybe he's never had anyone to feel safe with.
Maybe the first person he did feel safe with was Luke Skywalker. And you can still feel the loss of innocence and the pain in the moment of realisation that he had wanted to kill him. His own uncle.
You can feel a connection in the Force, a line between the two of you. It's so much stronger now than it ever was. It is as if theres a string attached to both of your minds, tethered together.
You tug on it.
Hello?
He doesn't respond. He hasn't all week.
That's when you get the idea.
Master?
It's silly. You thought the idea of you respecting his authority, his teaching over you, would snap him back.
By the time you're out of the shower, you've given up hope of him responding.
You're changed, and folding your clothes when the words tether themselves into the fabric of your mind.
I am busy.
Oh.
Perhaps he had not been avoiding you. Or he had, and he needed time to process. Though, you wouldn't be surprised if he was also busy, considering his demanding role.
When are you back?
You sit on a bench, wrapped in a towel, feeling the silky smooth tether between your minds strengthen. You can taste his agitation. You can feel your hairs stand on end.
Today.