He rocketed up from his bed, drenched in sweat, body still thrumming angrily in pain. He gritted his teeth against it-it wasn't his own. He could accept, even encourage his own pain, but he would not accept hers in this insufficient representation of empathy. He was not supposed to empathize.

Ben Solo would have accepted it, and tried to fix it. Fix her. But Kylo Ren refused.

Another blinding strike of pain ricocheted across his chest and down to his rib cage. He grunted in exertion, driving the pain back and desperately trying to sever their connection. It wasn't working-at least not well enough.

"Fuck." He groaned, inhaling deeply as it throbbed down his spine. He wanted it to stop, but didn't know what was happening to her, and it was hard to close their connection with this much pain rocketing through it. With a frustrated growl, he threw their connection wide open and peered through her eyes grudgingly.

For a moment, he couldn't see anything. When she opened her eyes he saw a doctor staring down at her worriedly. When she looked down at herself, her vision-and therefore his-was overtaken by red. He inhaled sharply, surprised. Jedi training at her level wasn't supposed to be violent. She had left Skywalker at some point, but he hadn't been consciously aware that she had joined the resistance—at least not in actual battles. That explained the irritation and frustration that he had received in random intervals. He sighed. You're fighting with the resistance. He stated to her. He could feel her start-he rarely tried to communicate with her through their bond. He had ignored it as often as possible until now.

Yes.

And you've been injured.

Yes.

Fantastic. He snarled. He could hear her whimper as sharp pain coursed through her body.

I'm sorry.The apology trembled in his mind. He frowned, annoyed.

For you, injuring me should be a positive byproduct. He chastised her. We don't like each other.

But we feel each other. And I, unlike you, don't like causing needless pain.

Snarky. You must be feeling better.

Another wave of pain course through them. Decidedly not.

Kylo growled, severely tempted to take his saber to the walls of his quarters, hacking and slashing his ire into visible relief. But he refrained-that level of fury would harm her and, it seemed, would harm him in return.

Where are you? He demanded.

Not a chance, Ben. She snapped. The doctor was attempting to mop up her blood-attempting to seal her wounds, but they weren't cooperating. He was watching, twitching with frustration as the incompetent woman attempted to fix Rey's broken body.

She can't do anything for you. Clearly. Tell me where you are.

So you can heal me? She snorted. If I tell you where we are, you'll murder everyone. My pain doesn't matter. Your pain is unfortunate, but it also does not matter.

He stewed in his anger for a moment-watching the incompetence in front of him unfold. Tell her to cauterize the wound. With your saber. Or a cautery, but I doubt she has one.

He felt anxiety stir in her stomach. That doesn't sound pleasant.

At least then she'll be able to stop the bleeding and close your damn wounds. Do it. I have injuries of my own, I don't need yours, too. He snapped.

"Cauterize it. My saber." She croaked at the doctor. The doctor regarded her with wide eyes.

"That will be very painful."

"Less painful than this, I should think. At least when it's cauterized I won't be bleeding."

After a moment's hesitation, she fetched Rey's lightsaber. "Are you ready?"

Kylo and Rey steeled themselves, and Rey nodded. The tip of the ignited saber was lowered to her chest and the piercing sound of Rey's screams ricocheted through the medical bay and Kylo's head. He dropped to his knees, clutching his chest harshly.

That sucked. Rey groaned. Had it not been so painful, he would have laughed.

Are you okay? He asked without thinking. He stopped abruptly, realizing what he had asked. Rather-what Ben Solo had asked.

You're the second person to ever have asked me that.

Ever?

Ever.

When she woke, the pain was dull-not sharp, but a hollow thudding when her heart beat. She sat up in the hospital bed and examined her surroundings and herself. They had managed to clean her up and she was covered in Bacta bandages. Her saber was delicately perched on a side table next to her. She felt alone. Completely alone. She couldn't feel Ren for the first time in months. Even as she tentatively reached out to touch their connection, it seemed like his side was completely blocked off.

She needed to learn how to do that. Even if she liked companionship, having Kylo Ren in her head was sure to cause problems eventually. So she really needed to learn how to do that.

She had no one to teach her though. The only two people she knew that had a firm grasp on how to use the force were no longer options. She had left Luke Skywalker. The Jedi way was too contradictory. It preached peace knowledge, serenity and harmony, but stayed only in the light. It purged emotion. It was one side of a scale, yet the Jedi order were always perplexed when the scale tipped. It was irrational. For harmony there must be balance. For light to gain meaning, there must be dark.

The only practitioner of the dark side she knew was Kylo Ren, and he was out of the question too. So unstable that he had murdered his own father. His own lightsaber was unstable-crackling violently as though it was as torn as he was. Ren was not balanced, he was being torn apart. Against her will, she felt for him. Their connection had been slight when he had driven his saber through Han's chest, but it had certainly been there. He had been so sure that his path would be clear and resolute once Han was gone, but he only felt weaker and more polarized once his father had fallen. He had felt his mother's sorrow, his father's forgiveness, her own shock and horror, and his guilt, sadness and confusion. He had hoped that all he would feel was relief.

When Luke had been teaching her, he had told her that the dark side gathered power from anger, passion and pain. She had thought to when Kylo had cornered her and Finn and pounded on the wound that Chewbacca's bowcaster had ripped into his midsection. She had felt a pinch then-nothing serious. She knew that if he sustained the same injury now, she would have easily passed out from the pain. But he had driven his fist into it and gained power. It was terrifying, yes, and she could feel twinges of the pain he was inflicting upon himself. But it had been awe-inspiring in it's own right.

The fact remained though, that he had also decided that the dark was the only path. There was no balance to be maintained. Luke and Ren were opposites, and she didn't want to learn from either. She wanted balance.

So she had returned to the Resistance.

She was starting to think that was a mistake, too. A stormtrooper who had lost his weapon had picked up a piece of jagged iron sheeting that had been blown from a nearby structure and caught her full in the chest. Then, he had roughly shoved his knee into her ribs. It had hurt like murder. A few moments later, it was even worse. The ridiculous bond she shared with Kylo Ren was suddenly crippling. Where they had mentally or verbally sparred before, she was sure they were killing each other now. Even worse, it was completely by accident.

It echoed and amplified between them-the intense pain charging through them like feedback through a commlink. It was devastating.

She had to (grudgingly) admit that his suggestion had been a good one. It had hurt a lot, but now that the pain was gone and she hadn't bled out, she found herself rather grateful for the battle worn dipshit's advice.

Dipshit?

"Kriff." She swore. I didn't know you were there.

I wasn't. Until you called me a battle-worn dipshit. That was rude and infantile.

I'm rude and infantile? She snarled. She wanted to slam a door in his face. And suddenly, it was silent. "Oh. Well. That was easy." She chuckled. She half expected him to tug on their connection so that they could finish their argument, but he left it alone. She figured he was relieved to not have to interact with her, so she settled back into the sheets, the tightness in her chest becoming just a shade too sharp.

She closed her eyes, but did not sleep. She listened intently to her breath, deeply appreciating the fact that she was still alive. She just sat and felt her lungs inflate and deflate steadily for an hour before Finn came to see her.

As soon as he entered the room, he fixed her with a disapproving stare.

"Cauterize the wound with my lightsaber." He snapped. "Of all the ridiculous and bravado packed suggestions you could have suggested, you chose 'Cauterize the wound with my lightsaber'?"

"I don't think I used that many words."

"Rey."

"Finn."

"Poe!" The pilot smirked as he strode in. "I thought I'd let him get the heft of his irritation out of his system before I joined you. He hasn't shut up since you passed out."

"How long-"

"Two days." Finn snapped again. She grimaced.

"Not good."

"You lost a lot of blood." Poe offered. Finn gave an irritated snort.

"Which is why I asked her to cauterize it…"

"WITH your LIGHTSABER."

"Stop yelling." She groaned, closing her eyes. She hated arguments that she couldn't stand up and walk out of. Or punch and kick her way out of. "Stopping the bleeding was a good idea, and it was completely necessary. She didn't have a cautery—not even the old metal kind. It wasn't bravado. I didn't realize the doctor was going to tell the entire base about it."

Finn sighed tiredly, slumping indelicately into a chair next to her bed. "It was a good idea." He admitted begrudgingly. She held back a chuckle, thinking of what his reaction would be if he knew who he was complimenting. "I just don't like the idea of you in pain."

"We're at war. There's going to be pain."

"Physical and emotional. I know. No need to roll out the speech again." He rolled his eyes.

Just a few months earlier, she had laid into Finn for complaining about the death toll and the injuries. 'Think of General Organa!' She had snarled. 'The evil she's fighting is her son. She has to pray every day that her son doesn't murder her fighters the way he murdered her husband. His own father. And she has to remember the fact that her SON is the person that her people want to obliterate. She has to hope. Do you know how painful it must be for her to know that beneath that murderer, Ben Solo is alive? And hope with everything she has that he'll come home? Hope is painful. Freedom is painful. The fight is painful. Get the fuck over yourself.'

And she had stormed away. The entire time, guilt had been stabbing through her core and sadness weighing down her arms and chest. And rage, too, for allowing that emotion to surface. For a moment she had thought it was her own, but it was deeper and more absolute, and had surfaced only at the mention of General Organa's plight. That was when she realized the extent of her connection to Kylo Ren.

From that moment, she had become guarded. Only telling half-truths and only paying half attention to the world around her for fear that he would somehow slip past her barriers and glean knowledge of the Resistance's plans.

In strategy sessions, she kept her face away from the holoprojector and stared resolutely at walls, checking every few moments to see if he was listening. Fortunately, he gave up trying to listen after only a few tries. Still, she remained vigilant.

His fury-his raw rage would surface in random intervals. The clawing, burning monster that came alive in his chest, and therefore hers. Although, while it ignited him, it suffocated her. She supposed he felt that suffocation because as time went on, the rage subsided more quickly.

When she was training-teaching herself to use the Force, he would unhelpfully interject. You need to move your foot inwards. Your grip is too slack. Your grip is too tight. Your grip is lopsided. Your center of balance is off. And so it went.

He hated it when she spent time with Finn. Finn, Poe, General Organa and Luke had no idea that she was connected to him. Therefore they were freely vocal about their distaste for the First Order. Finn was particularly vocal about his distaste for Ren.

Sometimes-not often-she tried to peer back at him. When she was bored or curious. When an emotion that she knew wasn't hers would pop up in her consciousness. Sometimes she managed to see Hux mocking him. Belittling him. Those moments, she wasn't sure if her ire was only his, or if she shared it. She may not like him, but he was not to be belittled. He was powerful. He was awe-inspiring. Other times, it was sorrow. Those times, he was meditating. Drawing his pain to his body and fortifying it within himself. Why do you do that?

Are you asking me to teach you? He had murmured back.

Absolutely not.

He sighed. Peace is a lie. There is only passion. Pain is a form of passion. It draws you away from so-called serenity and sets your nerves alight. It can be focused or it can be raw, but either way it can be channeled. He smirked. I like it raw. I like feeling it surge and snap.

Seems unbalanced. She sighed. Unhinged.

It's all I have.

That had been the second time they spoke (and the first had not gone well). It was well after she had decided to leave Luke's care, and so she understood. Peace and serenity were a lot to ask for. But so were unfettered rage and passion. Sometimes when she felt him, he ripped her nerves raw.

Poe and Finn were watching her quietly, unsure of what to say. She was lying in her bed, head tilted slightly back with a whisper of a frown on her face. Very occasionally, when she reached out to him she felt something different. When she was in pain, when she was frustrated, when she wanted to lash out; he reassured her and she would relapse to peace. She supposed that he meant that pain and irritation were okay, and that they should be fortified, but she took it to mean that she could feel however she wanted and as long as she maintained control she would be alright. Her interpretation irked him, yes, but it also brought him relief.

But he was hardly there now. She had, after all, slammed the door in his face. And he was probably planning something terrible, not waiting for her to mentally stroke him. She would have to deal with Finn's haranguing by herself.

"You've been acting different." Finn said suddenly. Her eyes snapped open.

"Different how?"

"Different. You always feel like you're somewhere else. Especially since you left Skywalker."

"Oh. I know. I've had a lot to think about."

"Like?" Poe prompted. She shook her head.

"How I'm going to learn about the force if I don't agree with the way it's being taught? What Kylo Ren is planning next? Am I enough to stop him or bring him back?" She felt a jolt of surprise. What? She barked.

Bring me back?

None of your business.

I vehemently disagree.

Too bad, Darth Tantrum.

He spluttered. She didn't slam the door on him, but she minimized their connection drastically.

"Bring him back?" Finn spluttered. Rey snorted. The men in her life were similar and predictable.

"He's either Kylo Ren or he's Ben Solo. Well...he will be. Right now there's both. But eventually one needs to be snuffed out. I'm hoping Ben will survive."

Poe looked alarmed, but didn't say anything. "He's beyond saving." Finn snarled.

"He's not." Rey insisted. Poe looked doubtful, but Finn looked incensed. Before he opened his mouth to speak, she interjected: "I've had a lot more face time with him than either of you. I've seen Kylo Ren, but I've felt Ben Solo." She sighed. "Tangibly."

On the other side of their connection (which Ren had apparently decided not to close) she felt anger. It clawed its way into her chest, adamantly stating that Ben Solo would not survive. She had a feeling that he would be destroying something in mere moments, but the fact remained. He only tried so hard to prove that he was fully dark because there was still light clawing at him, stronger even than when his father had stood before him, pleading with him to come home.

"It's not there. I was there when he ordered the indiscriminate slaughter of an entire village on Jakku. He tortured Poe. He killed his father. He tried to kill us. He stood by and watched the destruction of an entire planetary system." Finn's ire was building.

"If you're going to fight me on this, you can leave. I had a rusty piece of sheet metal driven through my sternum. My discomfort currently takes precedent over yours." She snapped. She had been snapping a lot recently.

Finn looked wounded. Poe looked uncomfortable but unsurprised. Ren felt satisfied-pleased, even. And so she felt guilty. As Finn turned to walk out, she stopped him. "I can feel him."

He stopped-rigidly still. "What?"

"That's part of why I've been acting different. I can feel him. His emotions. I can feel when he's in pain; I can feel when he's angry. I can feel when he's guilty and frustrated and nervous and sad." She swallowed thickly. "It's making me raw."

He stood, thinking. Then, after a moment: "Just because he can be redeemed, doesn't mean he deserves it." And he left.

Rey felt like crying, but she didn't really do that. She shut the door on Ren completely, not wanting to feel his satisfaction that someone recognized him as truly dark. Nor did she want to feel his satisfaction that the former Stormtrooper had left.

"So what are you going to do?" Poe asked after a long while.

"I have no idea."