CHAPTER SUMMARY: Kylo Ren seeks to improve the First Order's martial forces
The training room is in chaos. Or at least, it appears to be.
Men run at each other, wild-eyed and snarling, wielding all kinds of melee weapons— vibro-axes, pikes, double-sided blades. They hack and slash at one another, thrusting, swinging, leaping, dodging. Some duck behind curved structures scattered about the room, tall blocks of metal with no other function than to serve as a spring board or a hiding spot.
But no one hides for long. They can't. Not with throngs of adrenaline-charged men rampaging about, hungry for an opportunity to prove themselves, to stand out from the rest. At first glance, it looks like a war zone, a violent free for all without rhyme or reason.
But if one looks closely, there's a method to the madness. The chaos is organized, men grouped in clusters of four or five, never venturing far from their corner of the room.
Not everyone is fighting. Some men are crouching on the sidelines, watching, waiting. Every now and then, a black-clad officer gestures to one of them, directing them to join the fight as he pulls another man, sweaty and breathless, from the floor to take a seat.
The officers observe coolly, often glancing down to enter notes on a datapad. Most are careful to stay out of the way, but a few boldly stride through the melee, barely avoiding bodies and weapons as they fly across the room.
One isn't so lucky. He cries out, dropping his pad, after the blunt end of a spiked blade flies directly into his face. He whips his hands to his nose, desperately trying to stay the blood, as another officer rushes over to him. Several men lower their weapons, turning to check out the commotion.
But Kylo Ren doesn't move. His focus remains straight ahead, fixed on the man in front of him.
His opponent is short and stocky, not too old, about thirty from the looks of him. He's soaked in sweat, the fabric of his clothes clinging to his pale brown skin. He stands just a few feet away, shoulders hunched, gripping the end of a long, black baton.
Kylo slides his thumb over the handle of his own baton, activating the weapon. The man flinches at the electric crackle but never looks away. Instead he straightens and switches his baton to the other hand, answering Kylo's crackle with his own.
Kylo smirks.
He likes this one. The man's a bit brash, but confident and decisive. Kylo can sense he's intimidated, but he doesn't show it, his face remaining neutral, relaxed even. Only his eyes hint at his inner state— urgent, focused, on edge.
Kylo steps to the side, circling, his demeanor casual. He tilts his head, eyeing his opponent, curious to see what he'll do next.
Suddenly, the man flies at Kylo, his baton crackling overhead. At first, he aims for his head but dips at the last second, striking at his side.
Kylo easily dodges the blow, then whacks the man sternly on the neck.
The man hisses, a small burn visible on his skin, but he doesn't skip a beat. He tucks and rolls behind Kylo, grabbing an abandoned vibro-axe on the floor and rising, already swinging his newly acquired weapon. The ax whips through the air, creating audible wind, barely missing Kylo's chest. In the next instant, the man aims his baton at his core.
But Kylo catches the man's wrist with his free hand, squeezing and twisting against the joint. His opponent cries out and drops his weapon. He tries another swing of his axe but Kylo strikes hard at the crook of his elbow, loosening the man's grip. He strikes again at his forearm and the axe clatters to floor as the man falls to his knees.
Kylo steps behind him, twisting the man's arm up in the air.
"You realize your mistake, don't you?" He presses a knee against his shoulder. "You sacrificed strategy for ferocity. In a fight, you need both." He pushes the man's arm, straining the joint. "You picked up a new weapon but you didn't consider the consequences, how it could put you at a disadvantage. Now you have no weapons and you're dead." He pushes his arm even harder, straining his shoulder to its breaking point. The man gasps in pain.
"Sir."
Kylo looks up to find an officer standing next to him, datapad at the ready.
"Alpha or beta?" The officer asks, nodding to his opponent.
Kylo pauses, glancing at the man. "Alpha," he answers decisively, releasing his arm.
The man rises, gripping his shoulder, and turns to face him. He's smiling despite the fact that he's clearly in pain. "Thank you, sir." He looks up eagerly.
Kylo nods. "You did well," he informs him. "I'll see you next week."
The man gives a bow then straightens, looking proud of himself. He turns, heading for the sideline.
Kylo shifts to the officer next to him. "We're done here," he commands curtly, handing him his weapon. "Clear the room. Tell the others I want their reports submitted in an hour."
The officer nods as he takes Kylo's baton. He strides away briskly, careful to avoid a group of fighting men on his way to the sideline. Not a minute later a loud buzz reverberates through the room and the chaos of combat dies within seconds. An officer directs the men to return their weapons and report back to their units, telling those who made the cut to return next week— same time, same place.
Kylo walks past some of the men as they file to the door, a few nodding as he passes. He nods back, recognizing most of them as other alphas, men who continue to make the cut from week to week.
He's close. Another tryout, maybe two, and he'll have his team. Then he can really start training them— A combat unit made entirely of nobodies he's plucked from the lower ranks, brawlers who haven't had a day of proper instruction in their lives.
But that's exactly the point. They'll be a training unit, a way for Hux's cadets to develop the skills they're missing, the ability to fight opponents who don't play by the rules, survivors who fight tooth and nail, who don't give a damn about following proper form, only winning. Then maybe the so-called best of the First Order will finally start to fight with some ingenuity. And as an added bonus, he'll get to watch Hux see his precious cadets thrashed by a bunch of lower-ranked brawlers.
Kylo smirks as he approaches the washing station. He picks up a towel and drags it over his face, then moves to wipe the sweat from his arms.
He's already flirting with the idea of doing more. This unit could become his cadets, a rival to Hux's. The competition would sharpen them both, encourage Hux's men to be more off the cuff and his men to fight more strategically. Though he's leery of the commitment... These days, he barely has the time to train himself, much less anyone else.
But he must admit, he's enjoyed this. He's enjoyed the past few weeks, getting to know these men who spend most of their days performing menial tasks but have colorful histories, experiences that have battle-hardened them, that make them fight like it's win or die.
Sylas isn't the only diamond in the rough. Not that he's found anyone who comes even close to matching the boy's talents— his intelligence, his savvy, his adaptability. But the people who comprise the lower ranks aren't the simpletons he once imagined them to be. He's been engaging with them more, visiting different units, observing, questioning, learning. And he's been surprised by what he's found. Many of them are like Sylas, castaways who've had to fight to survive, men who've learned to get creative or get killed. They've come to the First Order seeking stability, a haven from their hard lives.
A place to call home.
It's strange to think of the cold annals of a First Order dreadnaught as something resembling a home, but to many of these men, that's exactly what it is. It's certainly a step up from the desperate wastelands they come from.
Kylo casts his towel to the side and turns to face the room.
It's empty.
He strides forward, surveying the scene. There's blood and sweat spattered all over the matted floor, weapons stacked high next to the entrance along with a disordered pile of red-stained cloth.
The cleaning droids have their work cut out for them.
Kylo charges towards the door, already reviewing the rest of his day, what has to be done. He needs to meet with Galen about the adjustments to recruitment. Then Petrov about the upcoming invasion of the Kaller system. He'll have to plan another trip to Felucia, figure out how he's going to manage that ongoing disaster. And he'll have to carve out some time to deal with this Corellian problem... Half the generals want to blockade the system, but he'd rather pursue a less extreme measure, if possible, which means he'll be holding Hux back like a snarling dog.
Kylo sighs, covering his eyes with a palm. He wipes it over his face as he continues to the door. Soon, he starts to slow, halting only a few feet away. He stands there, staring at the exit.
A minute passes.
Then another.
Then another.
Kylo just stares. He sees it all in his mind— the people he needs to meet, the problems he needs to solve, the plans he needs to make. Part of him is already back at work, but another part is weary, desperate for any reason to stay in this room, to put off the problems on the other side of the door just a little bit longer. He's felt so damn tired lately, run down, not an exhaustion of the body, but something else, something deeper. Coming here is one of the precious few escapes he has. He throws himself into it— the fight, the assessment, the strategizing, the learning— and forgets everything else. Here, he can just be himself, look a man eye to eye, find out what he's made of.
But it's over now. The best part of his day. His week, probably. It's all downhill from here...
Kylo sighs.
Ok. Time to move. Now.
He steps forward, extending a hand to the panel.
But he stops dead just as his palm grazes the metal. He perks up, senses heightened. He closes his eyes, concentrating, confirming that the rising feeling is real and not just a shadow. Before long, he opens them, a smile creeping over his lips.
Finally.
His chest swells, burning with impatience, as the warmth gradually reaches its apex then disappears, leaving only a familiar and welcome presence. He looks down, his smile deepening. Then he turns to face the room.
Rey stands in the center, tall and alert. She's smiling too. She starts towards him but doesn't take two steps before she slows, noticing the state of the room. She halts, looking around, brows knitting together. "Did...?" She examines a pool of blood beside her. "Did someone just die in here?"
Kylo grunts. "Not today." He steps forward.
Rey raises an eyebrow. "First Order training is a bit different than ours, clearly." She looks up with a hint of admonishment, but he's unfazed, stopping just in front of her.
"Hey." He never takes his eyes off hers.
"Hey." She smiles at him, a faint blush on her cheeks.
He lifts a hand to her face, grazing the soft skin with the backs of his fingers. He slides down, tilting her chin up as he leans in.
"What are you doing?" She catches her breath.
"Greeting you properly." He barely answers before his lips connect with hers. He kisses softly, then pulls back just enough to look her in the eyes.
She's surprised, though he can't imagine how she could be. She's the one who opened this door the last time they saw each other, and now that she has, he won't be wasting any time.
He brings his lips to hers again, fingers sliding along the curve of her jaw. She seems nervous at first but soon falls into the rhythm, sliding her palms up his chest and curling one behind his neck, pulling his mouth into hers. He slips a hand behind her waist, drawing her into him. He takes her greedily, soon growing breathless, but he can't stop, can't keep his lips from seeking hers again and again.
Finally, he pulls back, panting
"I missed you," he whispers into her ear.
"I can tell." She wraps her arms around him. He can practically feel her smiling, the kind of involuntary smile that almost hurts.
"It feels like it's been forever." He tightens his hold on.
"I know," she says softly.
He starts kissing the skin behind her ear. "Where are you?" He murmurs, lips travelling down her neck.
"I'm with you, of course." She lets out a laugh.
He pulls back, but his face is still close. "No, I mean before you got here. Where were you before the bond?"
Her smile falters. "Why do you want to know?"
"Why do you think I want to know?"
Rey grunts. "What are you going to do? Show up at a Resistance base to come calling for me?"
"Maybe." He squints with a glimmer.
In an instant, her eyes widen. "Ben, no." She unwraps her arms from him. "Are you insane? You can't do that."
He sighs, his hands sliding to her hips. "Still don't want anyone finding out about us, huh?"
"And you're not worried about that?" She gapes at him.
His eyes drift to the ceiling. "I can be subtle if I need to be." He looks back at her. "Can you?"
She takes a breath, then sighs it out, starting to shake her head. "That would be a very dangerous game," she warns.
He just shrugs. "Well, lucky for us, you're good at games." He leans in with a smirk.
"Ben." She rolls her eyes but she can't suppress a smile as their lips connect again, his hand slipping behind her waist.
"Come on," he goads between kisses. "I want to see you."
"You're seeing me right now," she murmurs, melting into him.
"I want to see you more," he insists, lips grazing hers. "I miss you." He pulls back. "I'm not alone in that."
Rey gazes at hi softly. She has that look of utter vulnerability, her emotions laid bare on her face, how much she loves this— being in his arms, being close to him. She swallows before forcing herself to look away. She furrows her brows, wrestling inwardly, struggling between competing instincts, the need to be cautious and the need to be near him.
She thinks for a minute. Then, out of nowhere, her expression changes, like an idea just sprung to mind.
"Tell you what." She pushes back, and his hands slide from her waist. "I will tell you where I am right now..." She backs away from him. "If..." She raises a finger, glancing around with a mischievous glint. "You can beat me in a fight."
"Done." He agrees without thinking. Perfect. Couldn't have come up with a better idea himself. He's been dying to get her in the training room again. Now, he'll get the pleasure of a fight and he'll get what he wants.
Rey laughs, amused by how quickly he agrees to the challenge. "Alright then." She squares her shoulders. "What will it be this time? Are there any of those arbir blades here?" She leans to the side, looking around him to the pile of weapons by the door.
"No." He shakes his head. "I've got something better." He turns, striding to the south corner of the room. Rey follows behind, curious.
He makes his way around a few towering structures, heading to a bare section of the wall. He stops in front it, lifting a hand to the smooth black surface. The moment he touches it, a hidden keypad lights up, red symbols arranged in a circular pattern. He quickly enters a code and a small, squared section of the wall pops out an inch. Kylo reaches over, pulling it out the rest of the way.
Rey gasps once she sees what's inside.
Lightsabers.
Four of them are affixed to a sleek, silver bar. Kylo unlatches one and hands it to Rey. She takes it eagerly, eyes fixed on the weapon.
"So... what?" She asks incredulously, running her thumb along the hilt. "You just have some of these stashed away in every training room?"
"In the ones I use, yes. Though there aren't many here who know how to wield them, and none who can wield them well." He reaches over to unlatch another.
Rey looks up, surprised.
"You're not using yours?"
He shakes his head as pushes the compartment back in the wall. "You don't have your weapon yet, so I won't use mine. There's no pleasure in beating you if it's not a fair fight." He winks at her.
She scoffs. "Well, aren't you overconfident..."
"I'm not," he says coolly, turning to walk to the center of the room. "I just know what I'm capable of and what you're capable of."
"Are you sure about that?" She follows behind. "It's been a while since we've fought. I might have learned a thing or two since then." He hears her saber crackle to life.
"I guess we'll find out, won't we?" He switches his weapon on, the long red blade shooting out with an electric hum. He turns to face her.
She's several feet away, examining her weapon, a red blade exactly like his. She begins to swing it side to side, first to the right, then the left. It glides smoothly, creating that distinctive sound, an electric song. "I like this training room," she observes as she continues to weave the saber from side to side. "I like those." She turns, nodding to one of the tall, curved structures just ahead. She lunges, thrusting the blade at nothing. "I like having something to jump on."
He watches as she tests her weapon, a faint smile on his lips.
"It's been a while since I've fought with one of these." She thrusts and parries at an imagined enemy. "But I seem to be getting the hang of it."
Kylo knits his brow. "Don't you have one?" He swings his blade once at his side.
"I did," she answers absently, focused on her fight with no one. "But I lost it."
"Lost it?" His tone is disapproving.
Rey turns to him, rolling her eyes. "It's not like I misplaced it," she retorts. "Things go bad sometimes. I had to abandon it." She resumes her imaginary battle. "It never felt quite right anyway, not like my first one. You know, the one you broke." She shoots him a look.
"That one wasn't yours," he corrects. "And you're the one who broke it."
"Alright." She whips to face him. "Warm up is over." She sets her jaw.
He grunts.
Good. She's provoked now. She's got that look in her eyes, that smoldering determination. It'll make for a better fight...
Rey lifts her saber straight up, the blade casting a red glow on her cheek. She plants her feet firmly, hardening into a battle stance.
Kylo lifts his own blade, his face falling even. The lightsabers hum steadily, seeming louder in the quiet of the room. He eyes Rey for a moment, then steps to the side, circling her.
She doesn't move. She remains perfectly still, following only with her eyes.
He cocks his head, pausing once at her side, then continues to her back.
She still doesn't move. She's a statue, frozen in battle-ready stance. She even feels like a statue, so calm it's almost inhuman.
He stops behind her.
Interesting...
He swings his saber once, not to attack, just to see if he can get a reaction.
Nothing. She doesn't even flinch.
He lowers his weapon, observing closely. She's learned at least one thing since they last fought. Baiting your opponent into making the first move is a way of controlling them. It's almost a competition in itself, seeing who the prefight tension breaks first.
He'll give her this one. Why not? Start her off with a boost of confidence.
The next instant, he lunges, aiming hard at her back.
She whips around, catching his saber just in time. He pushes hard against the blade, knocking her back, but she goes with the flow, continuing to walk back of her own accord. She weaves her saber casually from side to side, a playful look in her eyes.
He bursts forward aiming a strike at her core, but he springs into the air, flipping over his head to miss the blow. He immediately turns, deflecting her attack and answering with his own— one, two, three precise strikes, forcing her back. He keeps her on the defense, reigning down a flurry of blows at all angles, overwhelming her focus. She easily parries, but struggles to counter, his attacks too swift to give her the opportunity.
Suddenly, she ducks, tucking and rolling behind him. He turns to find her flipping to one of tall structures in the room, this one the shape of a crescent, a flat top and base with a hollowed-out curve for a center. She lands on top of it, crouching.
He races forward, leaping in the air to join her atop the crescent, but she flips off it before he lands. He drops down in pursuit, following her as she leaps through the structure's center. She abruptly turns for an attack, but he senses her intention, deflecting the strike almost as soon as she makes it. She doesn't skip a beat, still managing to take the offense with an instant follow-up, a series of hard slashes—up, down, overhead. He backs away, deflecting, but not for long, seizing the first opportunity to put her back on the run.
She's not thrown off by this. Creative evasion is her style. He marvels at how she manages to turn defense into a kind of offense, making excellent use of the environment, leaping on top of and around the tall structures throughout the room, forcing him to change gears, expend more energy in pursuit. The room fills with the electric crackle of their sabers, clashing again and again, pausing only in spurts when Rey ducks or runs, redirecting the course of the fight.
But she has trouble maintaining an attack. Even when she manages to rush at him with a series of blows, he always finds that opening, no matter how small, to break her rhythm, to turn her strikes against her. He's always been good that. He's her opposite in this way. If creative evasion is her style, relentless offense is his.
And at the end of the day, fights are won on offense, not defense, which is why he's about to win this one. He's got her boxed in a corner now, pushing her back to the wall with a rushing blitz of hacking and slashing, furious yet practiced. She's catching the blows but realizes what's happening, that she's in a trap and needs to get out now. She tries to dip down, tuck and roll herself out of the corner but he cuts her off with his blade. She's just a few feet from the wall now. He'll have her back to it any second...
He strikes hard, again and again, moving her one step, two steps, three. Finally, he goes for the kill, a heavy swing of his blade, intending to meet hers with a violent upward thrust, pushing it into her face and forcing her against the wall.
But something strange happens. He's not sure what exactly. All he knows is that he had her, she was there, right in front of him and then...
She wasn't. She was in the air, leaping over him, landing behind him and bursting out of the corner.
He whips around, shaking his head briskly before chasing after her. He must be tired, more than he realized. He needs to find a way to trap her again, keep her from running him all over the damn training room.
But he soon finds himself drawn back into that infuriating pattern, the one where Rey spends more time in retreat, forcing him to expend energy as he chases her through the room. He takes every chance to strike at her, to draw her into a duel, their sabers clashing in spits and crackles, but she never engages for long, always finding a way to turn the battle into a pursuit. She runs and ducks and flips, jumping over the tall structures scattered about the room. He flies after her, close behind but never close enough. She'll leap atop a thick block of metal only the leap off the moment he follows. She'll whip around, seeming to strike, but tuck and roll behind him instead. He'll rush at her, saber drawn, but instead of meeting his attack, she'll flip right over him, racing off in the opposite direction.
And all he can do is charge after her, panting and soaked in sweat, desperately trying to pin her down.
This is getting old. Very old...
He starts to feel that itch, that fire in the blood, consuming his limbs with dark energy. The addictive feeling sets in, an explosion of strength and speed that's at once wild and controlled, pure power surging through him. He flies at her, seeming to move at lightspeed, gaining on her so quickly she barely whips around in time to catch his blade crashing overhead. He rages at her saber a red blur of fury, striking so hard and so fast she can barely fend him off.
She grows frenzied, her focus overwhelmed by his fiery rain of blows. He's backing her into a corner again, one with a long, L-shaped structure blocking the left side. The walls are closing in on her. She's got fewer places to run, and she can't think straight, only react. He cuts up, down, across, aggressively filling the space around her, leading her into the corner, inch by inch.
Time to finish this.
He catches her blade dead center, then immediately thrusts forward, locking his hilt with hers. He pushes forcefully, and she staggers back, nearly tripping. She gasps, wide-eyed, then ducks behind the L-shaped structure. He whips after her, swinging to strike—
But no one's there.
He stops dead, gaping.
What the...?
"Question."
Kylo looks up to find Rey perched atop the structure.
"If you can't catch me, does that mean I win, or is it a draw?" She cocks her head.
He shoots into the air, landing on the block of metal in an instant, but she's already mid back-flip. He leaps off with a growl, flying at her the second he hits the ground. He catches up with a furious onslaught, rage burning through him as he hacks and slashes, filling the room with the violent clash of their sabers, again and again and again—
Suddenly, he stumbles, shocked to find his blade literally miss Rey's— her saber, her body in front of him one second, then gone the next, the end of his blade slicing though the matted training room floor. He gapes at the burn, then looks up, searching for Rey.
"Ben?" She pants, standing a few feet ahead. "Are you alright?"
He doesn't say anything. He just stares, dumbfounded, sweat dripping from his face. After a moment, he looks down, the fog of rage clearing slowly. He replays the scene, what just happened, again and again. It takes him a minute, but as he catches his breath, the pieces start to fall together.
He felt it that time, a ripple in the Force, subtle but...
That's when the realization creeps in. Kylo narrows his eyes. Then he switches off his weapon.
"Ben, what's wrong?"
Rey turns off her saber, concerned.
He straightens, tucking his hands behind his back, clasping his wrist with one and gripping his weapon with the other. He studies her closely. "So..." He takes a step. "You can control it now."
"Control what?" She knits her brow.
"You know what." He stops in front of her.
"Ben, I have no idea what you're talking about."
He grunts, amused and annoyed. "Yes, you do." He fixes on her.
She shrugs, utterly ingenuous. They stare at one another a moment.
"What was it you called it?" He leans in. "Force freezing?"
"Huh?" She tilts her head, feigning confusion. "Ben, you must be tired. You're imagining things."
"Is that right?" He glowers. She thinks she's being so clever...
Rey keeps up the charade, seeming concerned. "You know, if you're tired, we can just stop this right now." She crosses her arms. "There's no shame in that."
"Rey..." He draws out her name.
She continues feigning ignorance.
"Rey, come on." He starts to lose patience. "Stop playing games. I can feel what you're doing."
Her eyes flicker. She stares for a moment, considering whether or not to come clean. Finally, she drops her arms, her expression changing to the slightest flash of guilt.
He shakes his head. "Start talking. How long have you been able to control it?"
She glances from side to side, a bit sheepish. "Well..." She laughs a little. "Control isn't exactly the word I would use." She steps behind him, walking away.
"Ok." He turns around. "So, what word would you use then?"
"Maybe... Access? But only in specific situations."
"What situations?"
"Well, this one, primarily." She turns, gesturing to the room. "A fight or a chase. Any time when my adrenaline is up."
"So..." He furrows his brow. "You're not doing it at will?"
"Not exactly..." She seems unsure of her answer. "It's more like... A reaction."
"So, you're doing it on accident?"
"Sometimes, yes." She nods. "But not always. I did it on instinct the first few times, but the more I do it, the more I notice a pattern, what's happening."
"And what is happening?" He probes.
"Well..." Rey squints at the ceiling. "It's strange. I'm still not entirely sure. I haven't been doing what I did the first time. Then, it was like I froze the whole forest indefinitely, but since then, it's just been flashes, a couple of seconds, maybe. At first, I thought I was imagining things..." She widens her eyes. "But then I kept doing it, usually in a fight, and the more I did, the more I sensed it, these moments where the air shifted and time just seemed to stop."
"So, when you do this..." He starts slowly. "It's just in reaction, never by choice?"
"I'm starting to do it by choice," she emphasizes. "But I can only do it in reaction to something. For example, I couldn't do it right now. But if we were fighting, there'd be moments where the opportunity presented itself. I'd feel it, only for a split second, and I can either act on it or let it pass. Though..." She drops her shoulders. "I still do it by accident a lot. Not that I'm complaining." She shrugs. "Accident or not, it's quite useful, especially when you're fighting slavers with flamethrowers." She lets out a laugh. "I'd be roasted Rey right now if it weren't for Force freezing."
Kylo sucks in a breath.
Great. Just what he needs, more fodder for his imagination, thinking about all the ways Rey nearly gets herself killed. Though this freezing ability is something else... Even if it's only a few seconds, in a fight, that's the difference between life and death. And if she can ever learn to control it, if she can ever do at will what she did to those men in the forest... There may come a day when Rey is damn near impossible to kill.
"Have you tried doing it again?" He steps towards her. "Have you tried doing what you did in the forest, freezing an environment for longer than just a few seconds?"
"Oh, no," Rey huffs, taking a step back. "I don't do that anymore. I don't drive myself crazy trying to do things. Honestly, these days..." She switches on her saber. "I don't think about it much at all. I just do it." She twirls the weapon absently.
Kylo gapes at her. "So..." He shakes his head. "You're telling me that you've been doing something that, as far as anyone knows, has never been done before and you don't think about it too much?"
"Yep." She turns, weaving her saber from side to side.
"Rey." He scoffs. "How can you not—"
"Ben, listen." She whirls the blade around her. "I'm done trying to figure out things that are beyond my capacity to understand. It was driving me insane, but ever since you put me on the memory walk, things have been better. A lot better."
"How so?" He follows her with his eyes.
"Well, for example..." She lunges, thrusting into the air. "I've been healing recently. I healed someone not three days ago, in fact."
His eyebrows shoot up.
"And it was no flesh wound either." She casts a glance at him, proud of herself. "Rose told me I repaired a major artery in a boy's neck. Saved his life." She tosses her saber into the air, then catches it handily. "And I did it practically without trying."
Kylo studies her, growing more curious but also... unsettled. What she's telling him makes zero sense at all. No one just wakes up one day to find they can heal a major wound, without training, without study, without even ever having seen it done before. "That's..." He sputters. "Good. Good for you. But I don't understand—"
"I don't understand either." She twirls her saber around her. "But I don't have to understand in order to do. That's what I learned from the memory walk." She picks up her pace, filling the air with an electric whine. "I don't use the Force. The Force uses me, and I don't have to understand the Force, or what it wants from me, in order to trust it." She thrusts her blade. "All I have to do is have a little faith."
Kylo furrows his brow. He watches as Rey hops around the training room, parrying and striking at no one, like a little girl at play.
It's unbelievable. It's unheard of— a child, a nobody, doing things through the Force that have never been done before, without training, without even trying.
He watches closely, in awe of the pure power, the possibility, just the idea of her. But beneath the awe is something else, a strange kind of burning in his chest. If Snoke had even the slightest clue what she was truly capable of, he never would have ordered Kylo to kill her. To throw out not only raw but creative power, power that can conjure new uses of the Force out of thin air...?
No. Snoke would have kept her around. He would have taken her on as an apprentice, and he would have killed Kylo. Not that he wasn't planning on doing that already...
Rey whips around, redirecting her imaginary assault, stepping forward with one strike, two strikes, three. Suddenly, she halts, just noticing Kylo staring. She straightens, lowering her weapon. "What?" She asks self-consciously.
He stares for another moment., then brings his hand from behind his back, looking at his saber. "Do you ever wonder...?" He runs his thumb along the hilt. "Why you're like this?" He glances up.
"What do you mean?"
He looks back down, turning on the weapon. "I mean..." He examines the blade. "Do you ever wonder how you're able to just do things? Things like healing, freezing, without any training." He looks up.
She parts her lips but doesn't speak, unsure how to answer.
He looks away again. "I trained for years, you know." He slices his blade through the air. "Years— with the Jedi, Snoke, the Knights. Long, hard years..." He glides the saber left to right, then switches it off. "And I can't do the things you can do."
Rey's eyes flicker. "I-I—" She stumbles over her words. "I have no idea why I'm like this." She switches off her own weapon. "I try not to think about it too much."
"Why not?"
"Because..." She looks down. "It scares me," she finishes at a whisper. She stares into the floor, eyes hollow and faraway. He feels her well with insecurity, a fear that cuts straight through the bone.
And just like that, everything he's feeling fades to the background, eclipsed by something stronger.
Compassion.
"Do you know..." He steps towards her. "Why Snoke was so intent on having me as his apprentice?".
She looks up, guarded.
"It was because of my bloodline." He takes another step. "There are powerful Force-sensitives in my family, in the light and the dark. Snoke..." He stops in front of her. "He thought I'd encompass the strength of both aspects, a kind of hybrid, but by the end of things..." He looks down. "I don't know. Maybe it ultimately just means I'm unstable, torn by the weaknesses of both, and because of that, I'll always be... flawed."
Rey's heart sinks. "Ben—"
"My point," he interrupts, looking back up. "Is that maybe, somehow, you really are the best of both aspects, and because of that, you're something else entirely. Maybe that's why you can do things so easily, things that no one else can do."
She gazes at him with a kind of wonder, but also uncertainty, not quite willing to accept this theory. Her eyes slide to the side as she takes it in, processing. "I think..." She starts after a few moments. "That everything I can do..." Her lips curve upward. "You could do too." She looks at him.
"Is that right?" He grunts.
"Sure." she shrugs. "Why not?" She steps back. "Under the right circumstances." She switches on her saber.
"What do you mean?" He narrows his eyes.
"I mean..." Rey weaves her blade a from side to side. "Maybe all your training is what's holding you back. Maybe Skywalker, Snoke... both of them tried to force you into a mold you were never meant to fill. But if you were allowed to grow, unrestrained, on your own accord...?" She raises an eyebrow.
He looks away, jaw twitching.
"You know..." Her saber hums as she curves it up and down. "I took your advice. I talked with the kyber crystals about my Force abilities. I couldn't figure out how to ask them about the freezing, but I did ask them about the Force. I asked about the dark and the light. Do you know what they said?" The electric rhythm stops.
He looks at Rey.
"They laughed at me." She widens her eyes. "They thought I was absurd. They kept telling me there's only one Force."
Kylo tilts his chin up, struck by this. "So, they didn't recognize the concept of dark and light at all?"
"Oh, they recognized them alright. They recognized them as wrong. Then they started arguing about a bunch of things I didn't understand." She rolls her eyes. "But it just goes to show that maybe the Force isn't what people think. Maybe it's more complicated. Or maybe it's simpler." She furrows her brow. "Who knows?" She shrugs. "Who knows what's true? Maybe no one will ever know. But... I'm ok with that." She nods to herself. "Like I said, I don't have know in order to trust. I'm perfectly fine just relying on my instincts and having a little faith." She looks up with a glimmer. "You should try it some time." She squints at him. "Maybe you'll find you can do things you never even imagined."
Kylo doesn't react to this, not externally. He just studies Rey, arms crossed, expression neutral. Part of him is dismissive, wary to put too much stock in anything she says. Who is she, after all, to speculate about such things? No one. She's ignorant in the ways of the Force.
Then again... maybe that's exactly what makes her opinion valuable. Her views aren't twisted by anyone else's. She hasn't been taught to see the Force a certain way. She just calls things like she sees them, based on nothing but her own feelings, her own experiences. And look where it's gotten her so far...
His descends deeper into his thoughts, what Rey said about his training. There's something seductive about the idea that both Luke and Snoke were wrong, that both were ultimately unfit to be his teacher. Maybe she's right. Maybe no one is fit to be his teacher. Maybe being under someone else's thumb has been the problem all along. It put his power in restraints, kept it from growing the way it was meant to. Maybe—
"Are we going to finish this?"
He jerks up, jarred by the interruption.
Rey nods to the saber in his hand.
He uncrosses his arms, looking down at it. "I don't know..." He switches on the weapon. "Are you going to keep freezing me?"
"I told you I can't control it, Ben." She rolls her eyes. "I mean, I can try but—"
"You know..." He whips his saber at his side. "I could be using a lot more than just my Force senses in this fight," he warns darkly.
Rey sighs. "Do what you think is fair, and I'll try not to freeze you. Try." She lifts a finger. "No promises."
"Fine." He raises his weapon, resuming a battle stance.
She eyes him warily before doing the same. Neither of them move a muscle, standing a few feet apart, staring at one another, the hum of the sabers filling the silence.
A minute passes. Kylo doesn't budge.
Finally, Rey squares her shoulders, stepping back. She begins swinging her weapon from side to side, creating a rising and falling rhythm.
In the next instant, she bursts at him, rushing head on, weapon raised high overhead. He moves to meet her but she flips a second before the strike lands, disappearing overhead.
He whips around, then sucks in a breath when he finds her on the run, racing towards a three-tiered structure. He growls, shooting after her and gaining ground, following her up the steps of the structure. Just as she reaches the top, she turns with a strike, reigning down a flurry of blows, trying to push him off the step. He breaks her offense, catching her blade at an angle and thrusting, throwing her off balance. He leaps atop of the structure, a small rectangular platform, and starts in with fiery reign of strikes, hard and precise.
This isn't an ideal environment to duel with him and she knows it. The space is too small and he's too aggressive. He'll push her to the edge in no time. He forces her back—one steps, two steps, three— and suddenly she dips, crouching to leap to the ground but he was ready for this.
He leaps off just as she does, meeting her with an instant assault. He aims his blows strategically, turning her back to the broad side of the structure as he fills the space directly in front. She barely has room to fend him off now, much less mount an offense, only a couple of feet between her and the structure behind her. She moves to dodge, and he swings, aiming to cut her off.
But she disappears before the strike hits.
"Hey!" He whips around to find Rey a couple of feet to the side, holding a hand up. "That was an accident!" She says hastily. "I didn't mean to do it that time."
He narrows his eyes.
"It was," she insists.
He stares coldly.
She rolls her eyes, but her expression soon changes, her lips curving smugly. "What are you going to do about it?" She looks him up and down.
That's it. Now she's going to get it.
He flies at her with a furious blast, at once wild and focused— blade swinging up, down, all around— a red blur as he hits again and again and again, harder, faster, an impenetrable wall. She can barely hold him off, staggering as she fends off his blows. She'll be ducking or flipping her way out of this any second now. They're in wide open space in the middle of the training room, no towering structures close by, no corners to back her into. She'd just freeze her way out of it anyway...
Just then, for a split second, he sees it, a flash of memory, the first time he fought Rey in the training room.
He abruptly halts, switching off his lightsaber and tossing it to the side.
Rey follows the weapon with her eyes, and when she does, he Force-calls her saber right out of her hand and into his. He grabs her wrist and jerks her to him, twisting her arm behind her back.
Got her.
He has her pinned now, holding her firmly in place, her right arm trapped between her back and his chest. She squirms and wriggles, but he only grips more tightly. "No, no, no, no, no," he gloats. "You're not getting out of this one." He switches off her saber and drops it. She tries to stomp a heel on the toe of his boot but he dodges just in time.
"Don't even try it," he warns. She twists and writhes, trying to break free, but he tightens his hold, swallowing her body with his. "Force freezing or not, you can't beat me." He smirks relishing in the spoils of victory, having her trapped in his arms.
"Oh yeah?" She squirms. "Well, maybe I could've. Maybe I had the opportunity to freeze you but didn't take it. Maybe I let you catch me."
He scoffs, his lips descending to her ear. "Now you're being a sore loser." He barely gets out the words before releasing and twisting her to face him, capturing her lips with his. He wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her into him, his mouth opening into hers.
She doesn't skip a beat, weaving her fingers into his hair, gripping dark locks as she meets him flame for flame, pouring out her passion into hot, wet kisses, her tongue thrusting against his. He lifts her from the floor as he grips her flesh, warm curves covered by thin fabric. He takes her again and again, drinking her in, the intoxicating taste of her, losing himself in the passion, the fire, the way she grips his broad shoulder, the way she presses her body against his. He only stops when his lungs are on the verge of bursting.
"I won," he gasps, lowering to the floor. "Now tell me where you are."
Rey looks at him with flushed cheeks, panting. He's still gripping her by the waist, eyes burning into hers. She takes a moment to catch her breath, and he watches as the heat dies down, uncertainty flickering across her face. Finally, she answers him. "I'm at the training base on Dorajan, but..." She bites her lip. "I'm leaving tomorrow."
His shoulders drop. "To go where?" He probes, unwilling to give up.
"Scouting mission on Kessel. I'll be undercover, searching for a way to sneak slaves out of the mines."
He groans, resting his forehead on hers. "Tell me you're not going alone this time."
"I'll be with a team, Ben," she assures him. "But I don't know for how long. The mission's estimate is anywhere from three days to a week."
"And then?" He pulls away, his face close, only an inch from hers.
"Who knows? Since I've been leading this anti-slavery initiative, I've been all over the place. I'm lucky if I stay anywhere for more than a couple of days, and now that we're trying to build this escape network..." She shakes her head. "I'll be on the move even more. And busy."
He closes his eyes, sinking.
"Ben..." Rey goads gently, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear. "You know I want to see you. You know I miss you." She cups his face. "But things are so complicated right now, in more ways than one. It'll be hard enough for us to be in the same place at the same time, and to try to keep things secret on top of that...?"
He pushes out an exhale.
"But we'll always have the bond." She caresses his cheek with a thumb. "We can always count on it to bring us together."
"The bond takes too long." He grits his teeth. "Rey, I am sick of waiting on the bond. I want to see you, really see you. Not at random but at will." He frames her face, eyes searching hers, pleading.
She looks at him, all his longing and desire reflecting back at him. He strokes back strands of her hair, then slides a hand to her waist, pulling her close as he moves his lips to her ear. "Please, Rey," he whispers. "Please."
She melts into him, her body relaxing into his. Time seems to stall as they revel in the closeness, skin-to-skin touch, his lips at her ear, her hand curled behind his neck.
"You know..." Rey slips a palm to his chest, pushing back just enough to look him in the eyes. "I tried so hard to heal after I did it that first time. I tried and tried and tried, but then you put me on that memory walk, and I stopped trying. Then not long after that—" She snaps her fingers. "I just started doing it. And I started freezing too."
Kylo knits his brow. "Rey, what does that have to do with—"
"My point is..." She interrupts. "Maybe we should approach our relationship the same way. Maybe we shouldn't drive ourselves mad trying to make it happen. Maybe we should just trust in the bond, trust in the Force, and let things play out naturally."
He groans, rolling his eyes.
"Ben." She lifts a hand to his face. "You're the one who's always saying we're meant to be together. If that's really our fate, it'll happen regardless of what either of us do, so maybe we should just let fate take control, let it bring us together at the right time and the right place, like it did at Apatros"
He shakes his head.
He will never understand this. He'll never understand how she can be so intent on letting things remain out of her control, just floating through life, drifting aimlessly, never fighting the current, never forging her own path...
"Come on, Ben," She goads gently, her hand still at his cheek. "All I'm asking you to do is believe in us and have a little faith." She looks at him softly, so calm, so knowing. He gazes back at her, caught between how much he hates this passive inclination of hers and the brightness in her eyes, how they seem to contain the whole universe. It feels like if he looked long enough, he'd see it, their whole future laid out before him, all the twists and turns on the way to their destination, what they're ultimately meant to be.
At the end of the day, he has no faith in the Force. He has no faith in the bond. The only thing he's ever trusted is himself, what he can make happen, through his actions, through sheer will.
But for some reason, he feels like he could have faith in her. He can trust in what he knows she feels for him. He can trust that she wants him, that in spite of all she's saying, she will seek him out, driven not by intent but instinct, the need to feel complete. Maybe... Maybe he can trust in that.
Just as the thought crosses his mind, Rey vanishes, her warm body in his arms one second, then gone the next.
He jerks back, looking up and around the room, half expecting to see her standing a couple of feet away.
But the room is empty. Utterly empty.
He lets out a sigh, shoulders drooping. He closes his eyes, fighting that feeling, the hollow, aching loneliness that always follows the bond. He tenses, clenching his fists.
After a minute, he stoops slowly, sweeping the lightsaber from the floor. He studies it a moment before making his way to the other one. With both weapons in hand, he turns, heading to the south end of the room. He secures the sabers in their place then turns for the exit, gradually adopting his signature stride, swift and purposeful steps. This time, he doesn't pause at the door. He slaps the panel, charging out of the room and startling a row a cleaning droids waiting sleepily outside. He hardly glances at them as he walks by, his focus sharp, fixed on his destination.
He needs to clean himself up and get back to work. The prospect of returning to the grind doesn't seem so crushing now. It's partially because he's gotten some release, a chance to forget about it all, but it's mostly because he's been reminded of his motivation, why this is all worth it.
It's not just his destiny; it's their destiny. He's building an empire, not just for himself but for them, the combined force that will rule it. He thinks about Rey, thinks about their fight, thinks about her rapidly developing Force abilities, what she could become, what they could become together... It'll be one for the ages, the moment they finally unite as leaders. Then, the galaxy will see power like it has never seen before.
His chest swells with satisfaction, only slightly tempered by the memory of Rey's insistence that they leave things up to fate.
He grunts.
He'll just have to find a way to give her what he knows she wants, an opportunity to initiate contact with him, to see him outside of the bond. After all...
There's nothing wrong with giving fate a little push.
Note: I know I said I'd be getting back to a two-week update schedule again, but... but... Christmas! I'm going to try to update before the new year, but if worse comes to worst, chapter 30 will be up by January 5th at the latest. Thank you for your patience!
Happy holidays, ya'll! I hope you have a great one!