Time flowed like dry cement. It had been exactly five days since Kylo Ren had left to go to the StarKiller base, and at first I had basked in the relaxation that came with his absence–but only two days later, was when the pain struck.
On day two, without the constant fear for my life taking over my conscience, all my other worries were able to come full-front and centre in my mind. I was left a fretting mess of concerning thoughts, that looped around in my mind until there was no room for anything else, knotting themselves tighter with every new scenario that my mind would pluck from thin air.
It is as if I cannot live with the knowing that life goes on; that time continues even in the places where I am not.
My fingernails were now short, painfully short. I had nibbled them down in nerves to which the top of each was a pronounced pink ridge and some skin was torn with flecks of red. Just at the mere thought of Three, Two and One back home: I had caused this damage. I wondered if they struggle with my absence as much as I do their's?
I can picture them now—I presume that it's nearing lunch time over here on the Finalizer Base and when I had first arrived, I had sacrificed two hours. It's also a Friday, so most likely the boys are in physical training and Three must be having her sewing hour.
I smile to nobody but my own memory.
Sewing hour was our favourite. Though, I wasn't very good at it, always leaving with pricks in my fingers and a poor excuse of a sewn button; because we always spent that hour chattering our hearts away rather than paying attention to our craft.
But now, Three doesn't have a sewing partner and I don't have anyone to talk to, only bare walls of chaotic, onslaught, white.
On the third day the pain began to subdue and the boredom took it's place.
I've been cooped up in Kylo's quarters for too long—only leaving in the hours past midnight to get my one meal of the day in attempts to avoid anyone–and there are only so many games I can invent on these tiles.
I long to get out. Out of not just these quarters, but Finalizer as a whole.
Back home, it's fall now. The leaves will be scarlets, golds and browns and I can almost hear the crunch of them all beneath my boots; but when I look out the high-rise window, I don't see hazel skies of tall trees, only those brilliant pearls that sit as if cushioned upon the pure-black velvet of beyond.
I had anticipated time alone without Kylo Ren and his heavy words and gaze with such relish. But now I longed for some company for now I am lonesome and cold, for I have never been alone for this long. The only time I ever was left by myself before coming to Finalizer was the sparse moments I got to sleep or dress–and now, I could almost wish that he was here with his lightsaber beneath my chin warming me up; almost.
My chest feels tight at the realism, but I muffle it down. I don't want to particularly be with him. I just need to be around simply anyone.
I checked the clock. Only a minute had passed since I had last checked an hour ago, or so it seemed. Sitting here with nothing to stare at but the galaxy that I have now memorised by stars, is excruciatingly dull and there was no telling when Kylo Ren would return to taunt me once again.
Though, he is not here, there is still a fraction of him that remains, a fullness of soul and breath that is thankfulness at his mercy. But at the same time, the darkness of his soul looms in every corner... and the fear still lingers within my sore bones.
I think back to him promising me some time and that brings me enough spark to ignite hope. I recall his acceptance to show me a glimpse of the force within, which brings excitement... but the possibility of spending one-on-one time with him, also brings a reality of hesitation, no matter how much I have yearned to learn of the power surging through me.
Kylo Ren was a raging cloud of danger, but deep down I could see the life within—but I wasn't sure if that was my own ignorance seeing such; the same way delirious miners may find fools gold. This sudden gratitude that I hold against him invert the shadows so that tiny forms imprint a growing lightness into the dark that surrounds him in my vision.
And that terrifies me. So still, I put up caution signs in my mind–ready for the day his storm eventually breaks me.
I huff a tired breath, looking down to the tray of my dinner sitting messily next to my feet. The milk was old and as I bend down, I tapped it's murky surface to break the thickening skin it began to grow. The frigid drink dripped from my finger, the ripples spreading toward the rim in even larger circles.
I grimace at the smell and pick the tray up, throwing away the scraps and stacking the dishes upon the rest I have now collected: Commander September would be mortified at my mess.
I pour the milk down the sink which even suits this place too, with its overbearing lack of colour. The white matches the chalky walls and the bleached desks; it's as welcoming as the unguarded strip lights and the polished floors.
The only thing alive in here is the ticking clock and thankfully, my beating heart.
In my tsunami of twisted boredom, I decide today is the day that I muster up enough courage and finally get some lunch from the dining hall. It's time that I see what life looks like in the place that resembles a ghost town during the dawning hours I find enough bravery to creep into it.
Though, upon arrival my heart isn't as brave as my mind wills it to be. In this place there are so many others, even more than I had anticipated. There is countless rows of engineers, servants, pilots and even the casual StormTrooper, and as I notice all these unfamiliar faces, there's this little voice inside of my head that alerts our displacement.
As I stand in the queue for my plate of nothing fresh, I cast my eyes about as if in a wandering daydream but really I'm taking note of who associates with who. This hall looks entirely different filled and even my tray looks wrong as it is replaced with hot lunch rather than cold and bland dinner.
I wonder if these people can see the real me or just another outsider. Does the man I wait behind, who can't chose between a grey jelly or an even greater grey—know that I sleep in Kylo Ren's quarters? Or does he just think I am another lower class servant as he doesn't care he's holding up the line?
My clothes don't particularly single me out, but my trudging feet that jump out of the way of others, do. Gripping the edges of my tray tightly as I look for a place to sit, I am hesitant to join a table with anyone already claiming it; so I make my way to the exit, prepared to eat my meal in bed like I have the rest of the week.
"Six?"
You've got to be kidding me.
"Six!"
It was Arion who called for me, and she sat at the table just to the left. I swear she could be stalking me if it weren't for her finished tray sitting before her. I had spotted her from dozens as she waved me over from where she sat with her legs neatly tucked from sight, beneath the material of her skirt which was stained from grime.
She almost looked unrecognisable without her headscarf, if it weren't for the mess of golden hair which today was woven into a braid—nothing fancy, just to keep the sweat out of her eyes.
"Arion?" I furrow my brows, placing my tray on the table and taking the seat before her. Two engineers also sat at the other end of the table, too preoccupied by their conversation to notice my arrival. "What are you doing here?"
She fights a smile on her rosy lips, looking left and right at our surroundings, "Eating lunch... like every-one else here is."
Her mood was starkly different to the last time I had seen her.
Forgetting our communal placement, I mentally face palm at my stupidity, "Oh, right."
"I could ask the same of you though," She says, cutting my thoughts short, looking down to my tray for a moment and then back to me, "I would have never have expected seeing someone of your... league... sitting amongst the rest of us."
I flinch at her words and fight the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose in annoyance. Grabbing my fork and twisting it into the poor excuse of a salad–soggy and crunchy at the same time somehow–I ignore the sly sneer and just shrug.
"Well, there's no food back in Kyl–"
Arion suddenly shushed me, holding her arms up in defence and glancing around to make sure nobody heard. Her hand had almost knocked the fork in my mouth to the back of my throat, and I immediately knit my eyebrows together in confusion.
Her pale cheeks were tinted with red and those long fingers reached towards me as she opted for an abandoned knife on the tray when she noticed the men at the end of the table glance our way.
Once satisfied they were no longer listening as they resume their conversation, Arion lowers her hands, leaning in now on her elbows as she whispers low beneath the hum of constant noise.
"People here don't know who you are yet..." She murmurs, "They don't know of your purpose."
I swallow the lump in my throat and push the uneasy feeling that lurked to the back of my mind, "Is that a good thing? Should I be worried for when they do?"
"Let's just say, there's a lot of people here who have multiple reasons to try get back at.... Kylo Ren." She breathes, airy and brittle as if she was faking it. It's almost a rushed patter of words to get my attention, whilst stirring in a little banter to relax me all the same.
Flashes of a lightsaber being held up to my neck fill my sight for a split second, "I don't doubt that."
Arion contorts her lips into an awkward, toothy smile, but her cheeks are not so compromising—as if she wishes she could be reacting that way to my words but she understands the underlying meaning beneath them.
"See... so let's just keep that information to ourselves until they eventually all figure it out."
Arion's eyes shine with a look of long mischief or intrigue beneath pale lids. There was a steadiness to her as she slightly smiles with an ease that the universe craves to grasp, but never seems to capture.
It was a stark difference to the panic those blue eyes held that day Kylo Ren had demanded that she explain why she too, was out of place.
"Arion?" I suddenly ask, fiddling once more with my cutlery. When she hums in acknowledgment, I continue, "Why were you so close to the Command Centre that day?"
Though, I watch my distorted reflection in the silverware, I can see from my peripheral vision the way her smile falls lifeless, allowing her face to return to its usual gawk. I look back to her as she begins to stutter a response.
"I-I was passing supplies to the servants of the Commanders," She snaps, too quickly.
Like that day, she lied again.
I could sense it in the quickened heartbeat, the way her blood flushed through her veins and the way the sweat glistened, hot against the back of her neck and on the palms of her hands, which she rubbed on the sides of her skirt.
My blood boils. I saved her from Kylo Ren's wrath that day when I let her fib's pass but I wasn't letting her get away with it again, not from me.
"I can tell you're lying," I curse beneath my breath, giving her a menacing glare, "Tell me the truth."
"I said the truth," Arion tries once more and my hands clench momentarily around the fork.
Every muscle felt tight in Arion, sprung for action but she couldn't find the words to talk. Her body screamed at her to sprint out of the dining hall, to spend the anxious energy that kept piling in regardless of her inability to use it. Even her face felt ridged, like smiling was not longer an option. I could feel it all.
"I can sense your unease," I am a stark resemblance to Kylo Ren, but I demand answers and as my hand clenches around my fork, I am reminded of the hole in the wall that he had caused with only a butter knife.
She hesitates to speak but when she does, it comes as a distant whisper, only intended for my ears, "I was trying to find the location of somebody I once knew."
All at once, the grief came in waves and threatened to consume her almost entirely. It was like a silent monster which thrashed into her mind forgetting the anxiety which once took it's place.
I could tell she was at the mercy of it's whims and at times it hit her with such ferocity she feared it would leave her an empty shell.
My mouth parts slightly and I avoid her eyes, glancing back to the wound in the white. "Who?" I ask, suddenly feeling guilt for bringing on such pain within her—for reminding her of the very thing that hurts her most.
She hesitates; then sighs.
"My sister—" She croaks and I can tell from my peripherals, the way her eyes fall lifeless upon me.
She was calm on the outside to which one may not even know of the terror she possesses on the inside, but at the mention of her sister, the waves crash onto me stronger than before. It is agonising as I drown beneath the feeling of emptiness in her, a shear of nothingness that somehow takes over and holds onto her soul and threatens to kill her entirely.
Everyday, Arion's heart is replaced by a heavy feeling that is like the weight of the world is resting on her shoulders and there is nothing she can do to get out from under it. I am caving beneath it all and I want to curse the tension in the air between us, in which carries her emotion over to my heart.
"Where is she?" I ask, as I swallow the drowning feeling. My salad now becoming untouched.
"I don't exactly know the whereabouts," She furrows her brows in deep thought, "I have word from other servants like her and I, that she is working for an engineer over at the First Order's new base. I was around the Command Centre that day, hoping to overhear or find anything about it... just so I can find coordinates to send her a message."
Starkiller.
She's talking about Starkiller.
I turn and catch a fleeting look in her face, eyes wide with tension. My throat goes tight and my voice sounds almost as if it doesn't belong to me.
"... And if you were to find coordinates, how are you going to be able to send her a message?" I ask, dropping my cutlery onto my tray and leaning in closer in attempts to hide ourselves away from prying eyes. "How are you certain that she will receive it?"
Arion glances to the engineers at the end of the table and then back to me, nudging her head into their direction, "I have a friend. He's an engineer for one of the Commanders and he's certain he can send the message to a trustee who may receive it over there, and is willing to pass it over to her."
Sounds risky, dangerous even. Who knows if that random engineer will pass on the message or report it?
She continues, "–But the base is top secret, nobody knows the coordinates or the name of it. I haven't seen her in years and I just need to know if she's safe."
'– How am I to act strong when I don't even know if you are safe?' Three's voice screams at the back of my mind. It's distant and laced with incredible hurt which now confuses with Arion's pain and my own.
"It's called StarKiller," I mumble, flat and low as I meet her eyes once more. "Kylo has been there for the past couple of days."
"StarKiller," The name sits on her tongue for a moment and then Arion's lips twitch slightly upward, eyes gleaming with hope. "That's great news... It will make it much easier to find coordinates with a name now... thank you."
"No problem," I force a smile, my mind clouded with only Three. "Let me know if you ever find her."
"Do you think you could also keep your eyes out for a coordinate?" She asks, eyes open and hopeful.
"Sure."
I eventually leave the dining hall and say goodbye to Arion. The halls are as incredibly busy as always, while I made my way back to Kylo's quarters.
Why everyone else was in such a rush was beyond me as StormTroopers marched ahead in formation and strode around a corner. It seemed as if everyone on Finalizer was sped up and blinkered—whilst I was the only one steady measured in my pace.
I finally reach the hatch leading to Kylo Ren's quarters and place my hand on the key. It scans my hand in neon strobes and though I didn't give Finalizer my fingerprints, it seemed as if the First Order already had them long ago when it lets me in.
Sighing a tired breath of relief; I am glad that I got out of my empty corners, but grateful it still waits for my return untouched. The silence is somewhat relieving to my ringing ears that hide behind my headscarf, but when I make it to the main area, a figure steps from the windows, stealing my breath and the heat from my skin.
Suddenly my defences are paper thin. Kylo Ren turns from his place at the window and it is as if he had never left: a twinning image to the very first time I had ever met him. He is eating me with his eyes—his hands folded around his back, somehow still drawing me in closer.
"Six," He nods, eyes still harsh but golden.
Seconds pass, my brain taking him in, struggling to comprehend that he is back again and it's not just another delirious hallucination that these blinding lights cause–but he is real. My brain can't formulate a single thought, at least not one based in any language, and if I don't say something soon, my atoms will tear themselves apart.
"Y-You're back," I stutter, making my way over to the bench a couple feet from him, and lean against it before my legs turn into a jelly much like the one from the cafeteria. "How was your... trip?"
Trip! How idiotic could I possibly be?
Before I can draw in the air my body needs, the power of my force has melted into his form. I can practically feel Kylo's firm torso and the heart that beats within. Even this roughness brings more relief than my heart can hold.
He was calm for once but I figured that was a slow burning fuse–a sense of tranquil while there was still more fuel to burn, but the sudden explosion would always catch me by surprise when he had run out of patience, leaving me shattered and vulnerable to his control.
"Fine." Kylo forces out. He tilts his head to the kitchen sink which was piled with trays and dishes and I grimace at the mess I had left.
"I notice you have been redecorating."
I think back to that temper and I hope his words didn't have any ill intentions and that he wasn't mad at me. I swallow the lump in my throat and move from my place at the bench, "I'm sorry. I will return them all to the dining hall now, if that is what you wish."
He holds a gloved hand up, two fingers halting me from my movement, "Don't," He cuts, "I'll get someone else to do that."
My gaze goes wide before him.
In those brown eyes that stare through my soul are a million hues of mahogany, to which I now wonder what the word "brown" even means.
"O-Okay, " I stutter.
His gloved hands still patronise me and then those two fingers usher me over as if I was attached to them by a thin string. "Come here," He calls.
My stomach flips with uncertainty.
With a steady pace and an unsteady pulse, I follow those fingers to which they guide me and when I am left standing a mere few inches from Kylo, I fight the urge to flinch– ready for the moment his temper, that was a slowly filling glass, reached the top any moment now.
His hand suddenly reaches out to me, nearly grazing the thin skin of my burning cheek and I fix my eyes to the lightsaber that sat loosely on his hip, to which he notices. His eyebrow raised in amusement at my caution.
The black leather never makes contact with my flesh but it threatens to, and when he retreats it away, I figure it will never have the chance; but instead, I am proven wrong as he grabs my headscarf from the back of my head, pulling it down slowly to reveal the hair on top.
He murmurs his next words, his tongue peeking out slightly to wet his bottom lip. Those lips of rose that is enough to send, I presume, anyones mind into a sensual state of intoxication. "You look too much like a servant with that on."
Before I turn blue from not inhaling, I mutter the words before I can create them, "Is that not what I am?" I ask, eyes wide with adore at our sudden closeness, "Is my purpose not to serve?"
His dark hair was long and neat but fairly tossed backward, and some uneven strands poked around the sides of his face to which I dragged my eyes upon to see a clean shaven, sharp jaw and a crooked smirk that was directed to me. A devilish smirk that I would let haunt my life forevermore.
"Not quite."
Though my vision wavered, there was one thing I was sure of: Kylo Ren was holding my headscarf in his rough hands delicately, and he is still sticking to his promise.
I feel drunk on rich wine, though I have never tasted it to be able to tell. It's like some sort of outer body experience. I felt the universe rocking beneath me and my mind drifting in and out like a tide.
Though, I want to remain in this calm storm he gives to me, a muffled voice in the back of my mind is cursing to remain my guard: for this is uncommon and brand new.
I shake my head slightly and force out an airy laugh as I take a step back from him but not enough for him to become offended. I am rattling around my brain trying to find anything to say but in every crevice of my mind, I find nothing.
He too, moves an inch back like he was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to. His eyes falling to the headscarf in his hands to which he scrunched up for a moment and then let go.
Passing me the material, I took it from his grip with a closed, uncomfortable smile.
"Thanks."
There was a tension in the air, thicker than the meat the dining hall serves–but it isn't a threatening tension that makes me fear him, it was rather something else I have never felt before.
When I look back to him, I can't place the emotion he held behind his eyes, nor feel it. I wonder if he was doing that on purpose with his power of the force? I was taught to conceal my mind from others but I had never heard if you could close off your emotion.
My jaw opens to speak but I can't quite place the words I wish to say, it wasn't helpful that he only stared patiently for the formulating question to follow.
"Are you still willing to teach me more of the force one day?" I ask.
Kylo Ren hums at my question, seeming to fight off distaste as he retreats his hands once more behind his back. "Eager?" He sneers, eyes gleaming bright beside the galaxy.
"Well I-" I begin to muster up a collected reason but he cuts me off.
"I promised you that I would," He says, his deep voice soft like velvet as he turns to look out the window once more. "—I always keep to my promises."
I smile to myself in sudden relief and watch the way his broad back rises with each breath he takes.
I too, now take a glimpse out the window and watch the way the stars glimmer in the deep beyond and when my eyes distort for a second, I am left only watching my reflection in the pane.
I then notice the stand-offish apprentice watching me, through the glass and I wring my hands together around the fabric of my scarf in sudden nervousness.
"Why is it you wish to learn more of the force?" He suddenly questions—but again, he more-so demands answers.
I tear my eyes back to him and furrow my brows, "Learn more? I hardly know anything about it. I more so just wish to understand it."
His features etch together in the reflection of the window and he turns to me once more.
"The First Order never taught you?" He considers, "I thought they had masters there to guide you?"
I shake my head, my hands tugging and pulling at the material in my hands.
"No. We had Commanders there, but they only taught the boys of the force..." I drag my words, flinching at the thought of Five. "The other girl and I were only taught how to close our minds from others, or how to understand the emotions of our eventual pairing."
Which is you, I leave out of the statement.
When Kylo pulls me in with those deep eyes once more, there is a glimpse of emotion that he lets slip momentarily–I can only perceive it as need for more stabilisation or connection and if I am correct, that makes both of us.
His eyes are so different in a fraction of a second, much like the one I am left in to study it.
If it were anyone else, I would drop my gaze to let their internal emotion rest, but with him I am only drawn in closer, always wanting more; though he will never give it to me for all at once, the feeling is now gone—closed off from the universe once more.
"You miss them," He suddenly blurts, trying to advert my attention from his pain to mine. "The others. I can sense it."
That same pain from before, in the dining hall, has returned at their mention–caving in my chest as if his words were an avalanche.
"Yes, I do..." I croak, my eyes preparing to become glassy. "I miss all of them."
He squints his eyes slightly as if he is reading me whilst I am most vulnerable, and that's when I realise he is trying to articulate me as I just was to him.
"Some more than others, though," He points out, and all at once I feel as if he has abused the tension between us and called me out.
I am taken aback, my mouth falling slack as I shake my head, "No. I love and miss all of them... equally."
He doesn't react to my statement, only looks through me as if he had ignored them.
"Who is it you miss the most? I can't quite see them yet," Looking at Kylo, I can tell he isn't playing any games but I still don't believe the words he breathes.
I miss each of them in their own ways but the same amount individually. One, for his open view on the world ahead. Two, for his quiet but loveable warmth. Three, for her radiant smile and willing heart. Four, for his determination. And, Five...
"Ah... the boy," Kylo Ren huffs, putting all my broken pieces together. "I can almost feel the warmth he brings to your pathetic heart."
My body of cage was unlocked with only words, and he opened a door I didn't know was there. Kylo took out the pain and put it on display by reaching into the person I truly am and dangling it in front of my face like a mirror for me to see my own reflection.
"He's my best-friend..." I whisper, my heart caving in and the tears crashing down before I can realise my vision had blurred behind them. I dwell for a fraction of a second and my face is now wet. Those painful tears roll silently into my lips, salty and cold.
"That's not how he feels about you."
The universe comes crashing onto me beneath his heavy stare and now the old Kylo Ren has returned without so much as a welcoming.
"What?" I stutter behind my tears.
His lips tug into a scowl and he turns back to look out the wide window. "Your friend, he's over at StarKiller for further training."
My heart swells in a tug of war that can't chose between grief or happiness at the news. They come in waves, gruelling and stretching me thin. It is a shard in my guts that never leaves, though somehow the edges are dull. It feels like death but at the same time rebirth.
"–His mind is not as closed off as yours."
I choke on the breath from my body and short circuits spark my mind. "You saw him! Is he okay?" I take a step towards Kylo and have to fight against the urge of tugging on his cloak to grasp his attention, to make him answer quicker.
He turns back on his heal harshly and I hold my breath behind pursed lips to steel myself against the gales of menacing to come; like I knew they eventually would.
Kylo Ren scowls.
"He is a pretentious boy who has never had to work to be where he is now! He doesn't deserve the First Order but believes they will fall to his feet for what he was born with."
"H-He's not like that," I shake my head, stepping back away from Kylo's wrath but he just keeps closing in on me. "You don't know him like I do."
He snickers in my face, voice low and determined as he looks deep into my frightened eyes. "...Or maybe you don't know him truely at all."
My heart shatters around my feet—and if Kylo Ren could see it, he'd probably grind the shards with his boots to my demise.
And with that, Kylo brushes by me in a sudden, swift motion, his shoulder nearly taking me off my feet as he heads into his room.
The hatch closes soon behind the mess of black, but not before he turns back to me and says something I wouldn't have expected, "I'll teach you to hide your emotions first thing tomorrow."
His lips tug in a pensive way, his eyes ever-so dark as he scans me,
"–I can't bare the sickness in which I endure having to feel your longing for that boy any longer than I already have."