NOTE: This is most likely going to be an angsty, trashy, dark, problematic mess. If you aren't okay with being exposed to that, please don't read this. :)
I have no intention of redeeming anyone.
She's on the Finalizer for sixty-four days before it all goes to shit.
She had no inkling, that morning, of the terrible shift that would occur in mere hours. She had woken up, enjoyed a brief but luxurious shower, and hadn't been surprised to see her pale face in the mirror afterward. It had taken weeks for her to get used to having her hair, which was now dyed black, falling around her face in a bob that ended mid-jawline.
Sometimes it still tickles, when she tilts her head a certain way.
She's spent more time with her coworkers than she has with anyone else in her life. Even when she had trained with Luke, he was scarce most of the time, spending only a few hours a day in her company before leaving her to her training exercises.
She's felt more like Kira than Rey for the last three weeks, a feeling that sparks shame and a tiny bit of pride within her. If nothing else, it makes her mission easier.
It hadn't taken long for her superiors to recognize her skill. Technically, they can't promote her yet, but as soon as she hits the three month mark, she'll be a class two mechanic. They've already started giving her harder assignments, and she's gotten to know some of the higher level mechanics on board.
Kira is well-liked among the other crew members. She's agreeable, eager to help, and a very good listener.
And when coworkers tell her things - private things, angry things, traitorous things - Kira keeps her mouth shut. It's an incredibly important virtue, especially for a spy.
She is a repository for gossip, not a supplier.
It's this skill, more than her mechanical skills, that proves to be her undoing.
"I have an assignment for you," her supervisor says, and there's a serious glint in his eye that she's never seen before, "a very important assignment. One that you aren't going to discuss with anyone other than me."
She stares at him for a few moments before she realizes he expects her to reply. "Okay, what do I need to do?"
"There's been damage reported in room 222 of C deck. I need you to assess the scope of the damage, requisition the needed parts, and fix it, as soon as possible. And be discreet, for kriff's sake."
He's still pinning her with that look when he adds, "You've been given a temporary access code for the door, the details and the room location have been sent to your datapad. Go. Be quick about it."
"Yes, sir," she nods curtly, before checking the device and setting off in the direction of the room. It's in a part of the ship she's unfamiliar with, which isn't terribly surprising, given its immense size. She's only seen around a quarter of the ship at this point, give or take.
When she arrives at the door, there's nothing special or noteworthy that sets it apart from any other part of the ship she's seen. She inputs the code, then gasps once the door slides open and she enters the room.
One of the walls is fucking trashed, severed cables hanging out of deep gouges in the metal. The rest of the room is bare and empty, save for an archway that appears to lead to spacious living quarters. She assumes there was furniture involved in the wreckage, and that cleaning droids have already seen to it.
Her shoulders slump as she begins removing the metal paneling from the wall.
She's just sent her requisition forms via datapad three hours later when she hears the door open behind her.
That's gotta be a new record, she thinks as she turns around with a grin-
And stares into the mask of Kylo Ren, who has just walked through the door frame.
Fuck.
She looks down and turns back to her work, idly fiddling with an exposed cable.
Rey doesn't hear him move away. Shit, shit, shit. She pretends to examine the wiring to her right.
She hears his heavy footsteps then, but they're moving toward her, not the living quarters.
"Look at me," he commands, the growl of his vocoder failing to hide the urgency in his tone. She turns, slowly, and focuses her eyes on his chest. She doesn't trust herself to look at his mask, not yet.
He steps forward, crowding her against the wall, and before she can react his gloved hands reach out, smoothing her hair up and away from her face.
She forces herself to focus on the little apartment and the underground of Coruscant. She fills her mind with images, bits and pieces of a life that isn't really hers, but has begun to feel more real than her true past.
"What's your name?" She might be imagining it, but his tone seems tinged with a hint of desperation.
"Kira," she replies, and she can't help the fear that leaks into her voice.
She feels him brush against her mind, taking in her fear and the thoughts that flit across the surface.
"Where are you from?"
"Coruscant."
He stares at her in silence for several seconds, then his hands abruptly drop away from her face and he steps away from her.
"How long will it take for you to finish your repairs?"
"It should only take a few hours once the parts get here," she stumbles over her words in a rush to get them out of her mouth, "I just requested them, they should arrive soon."
"Carry on, then," he dismissively tosses over his shoulder as he walks into the bedroom.
Rey breathes out a soft sigh of relief as she presses her forehead against the wall.
She's joining the new lengths of cable to the existing wiring when she happens to glance into the bedroom.
He's sitting in a chair, staring at her, with his mask still on. How long has he been there?
Rey swallows down the bile that suddenly rises in her throat, and wills her hands not to shake as she crimps the wires.
She finishes all of the cabling and is beginning to replace the paneling when he speaks again.
"I've notified your supervisor. You'll be dining with me tonight," he pauses for a few heartbeats, "You don't need to report back once you've finished here."
Between his wording and tone, it's an order, and Rey wonders for the second time today if she's been caught.
Maintenance droids arrive with a new table and chairs before carting off the mess from the wall repair, and service droids arrive shortly afterward with dinner. Kylo Ren takes the seat nearest to the exit, which leaves Rey sitting between the table and the wall.
"You haven't been working here long. Your current service record is exemplary, though."
"Um… thank you?" She has no idea how she's supposed to respond to that.
"Where did you learn about machinery?"
"I worked for a while under a junker in Coruscant."
"So you're a scavenger, then," there's a sharp, accusing bite in his voice that she's heard before, so many months ago. It feels like yesterday.
"It's not the term I would use for myself, no," she responds quietly, although she can't help the defiance that permeates every word.
She looks down at the food. It's decadent, with some kind of meat as the main portion and colorful vegetables in a thick sauce. She hasn't tried it yet. Kylo Ren hasn't removed his mask, and she isn't foolish enough to start eating before the ranking officer does.
Her hunger must show on her face, because she hears the whir of the servomotors disengaging his mask. She looks up just as his hands pull the mask away, and her eyes drink in his face as if she's seeing it for the first time.
There's a prominent scar running diagonally across his face from where she'd struck him with Luke's lightsaber. She isn't sure why it's there; bacta gel should have healed it with minimal scarring. Maybe there weren't many medical supplies available during the evacuation of Starkiller base.
It doesn't detract from his appearance at all. If anything, it brings a sort of balance to his long and narrow features.
She feels a flush crawling into her cheeks, but she maintains eye contact, willing her traitorous body to react appropriately to the man who had murdered Han Solo in front of her.
Kylo Ren places the mask on the table, watching her reaction carefully. Apparently satisfied, he turns his attention to the food in front of him, precisely cutting his meat into cubes.
"I apologize if I startled you earlier. For a moment, I could have sworn you were someone else."
She doesn't react, doesn't dare look at him, just quietly spears some vegetable pieces with her fork.
"You weren't though," he mutters, and he sounds so bitter and disappointed that her fork pauses momentarily midway to her mouth.
The words leave her lips before she has time to think, years of painful inadequacy responding before the more reasonable part of her brain can intervene. "Sorry to disappoint."
He looks so flustered and uncomfortable for a second that she has to grind her teeth to avoid smiling. No wonder he wears a mask, his poker face is shit.
She puts all of her attention on her food, careful to follow the table manners Poe had spent hours teaching her. Her drink tastes alcoholic, probably a wine of some kind. She takes cautious, measured sips to ensure that she'll remain sober throughout the meal.
"Tell me about yourself."
"I grew up on Coruscant. I was an orphan… most of my childhood was spent being a petty thief. There was a gang of us, we worked for this guy named Solan. He ended up selling me to a junker to pay off a loan," she pauses, taking a drink of the wine, "anyway, Gavin, the junker, he ended up being pretty okay. He taught me most of what I know, and let me save up for my freedom. Once I was free, I signed up for the First Order… and now I'm here," Rey finishes lamely.
"I see."
The rest of the meal is eaten in silence. Rey focuses on the food, even as she feels Kylo Ren's eyes staring holes into her.
The only time she looks up at him is once she's finished her food. "Thank you," she says, and she's surprised by the sincerity in her voice.
"Good night," he replies, as he stands, collecting his helmet before he leaves the room.
Rey feels like her heart might beat out of her chest as the panic she's been repressing for hours surges through her body during the walk back to her room.
For a moment, he had been so sure.
But then he had reached out with the force, and had felt… nothing. She was as force-sensitive as a rock. He had brushed against her mind as an added measure, and all he'd picked up was fear and the scattered memories she had that were associated with it.
All from Coruscant. Not a desert in sight.
He slumps down on his bed, running his hand along the side of his face. He should be feeling rage right now, but he just feels… drained. Tired, in more ways than one.
He pictures Kira's face, and as he imagines it, it shifts into Rey's face, then back again.
She isn't Rey.
But he can pretend.