"Please, not tonight."
"Why not?" a low voice murmured next to her.
Rey stared at the ceiling in silence, refusing to elaborate or explain. She didn't have to.
He was silent for a moment as he skimmed through the thoughts and feelings that had bubbled up to the surface of her consciousness. "You're scared the link is growing strong enough for me to find you through it. You're right. I'll find you soon."
"Not. Tonight." she repeated through gritted teeth.
"Why should tonight be any different than any other night these past months? We link; we talk; you try to convince me to give in to the light; I tell you to accept that your place is by my side, ruling the galaxy: it's a comfortable routine we've developed," Ren said dryly, finally turning his head to look at her.
They were lying in bed. Or, rather, they were each lying in their own beds, light years away from each other, but as close through the Force as if they were lying in the same bed, just inches apart. If she turned her head, she knew he would appear to be inches away from her. She could feel his presence, as warm and solid as if he were.
She quelled that thought ruthlessly.
"Why is this still happening? Snoke is dead. This link should be gone." She'd asked that before, but she was frustrated enough to ask it again. Largely because she was just not in the mood for this tonight.
She and a Resistance team had narrowly escaped a First Order mission that had somehow tracked them to Corellia; five members of the Resistance had died. She was beginning to suspect that Ren was catching glimpses of Resistance plans in her mind. Moreover, she was beginning to suspect that Leia knew about the mental link between her and Kylo Ren. The last hope of rebuilding the Jedi Order, and there she was having cozy chats with the most powerful Sith in the universe and...thinking about him when she wasn't.
"I've told you, Snoke built a bridge. Once built, it doesn't simply disappear on its own," he chided.
"I just...thought it would fade," she muttered.
This was another theme to their conversations: him explaining concepts to her as if they were so basic a child should know them. Of course, he probably had known them as a child since he'd been born with a Jedi master for an uncle and a mother who probably would have been a Jedi herself, had she not been so busy leading a rebellion. She sometimes resented the ease with which he understood things that were new and astonishing to her. She had to stumble along blindly, hoping to figure things out quickly enough to save her skin and the lives of those around her.
Well, I can figure this out, too. If you can build a bridge, you can tear it down, she thought angrily.
"You would sever our connection?" Ben asked in shock, turning his whole body to face her.
Rey cursed inwardly. Her thoughts were so open to him when they bridged. She needed to be more careful.
Opting for openness now that the damage was done, she replied, "Of course I would. This endangers the Resistance."
Ben regarded her silently for a long moment. "No, you wouldn't," he said finally. "You're still lonely. As lonely as the days you spent on Jakku. Cut off from the world even when surrounded by people. But you and I are connected in a way that helps to fill that void. Our talks help you forget that loneliness, if only for a while. You couldn't give that up."
"It returns a million times worse once we finish talking. I always feel worse - every time - because I can't fix you. Because I shouldn't want to fix you. I should remember what you did to your father, to all the Resistance fighters you've killed, and I should only want to end you!" A fat tear wetted her eyelashes before rolling down her cheek.
He didn't say anything in response. Didn't reach out to wipe away her tear, as Finn would have. But then, that wasn't his way. Compassion was weakness to him, as was remorse.
"You're as lonely as I am, anyway!" she snapped.
"Yes," he said simply.
And just like that, he disarmed her. Honest Ben, always willing to own his actions and feelings, no matter how horrific the action or embarrassing the feeling.
"Aren't you worried that I'll get information that you don't want me to? That I'll use it to harm the First Order?"
"It's a possibility," he acknowledged. "But you are untrained and rely on the brute strength of your powers. It's far more likely that I'll be able to use the link to find you first. And then I'll have to decide."
"Decide whether to kill me?" she asked bluntly.
"To kill you. Or to keep you."
His words sent a pulse of...something through her body. She turned her head away from him and worked to calm her body's reaction to him.
"If I kept you, I'd have more time to make you see the flaws in the Jedi religion. You think of it in such simple terms. Jedi versus Sith, good versus evil. You're blinded by ignorance."
"You will never convince me that the murders committed by you and the First Order are justified!"
"No?" he asked testily, reaching out and grabbing her chin forcefully to yank her gaze to his. "What you call murder, I call executing traitors. The galaxy flourishes under our rule! Planets lacking resources gain access to the trade they need through the Order. Wars that would destroy entire civilizations are quelled by our authority. Yet you and your little friends seek to disrupt our order and return the galaxy to chaos. And you, like the naive little girl you are, want to believe that the rebellion is about freedom and good triumphing over evil," he sneered.
"That's what it is-"
He cut her off sharply, "No! It's about power. Who do you think ruled the galaxy before my grandfather and Darth Sidious took power? General Organa and a Senate full of cowards who served the Jedi so long as they could keep their own privileges. And you romanticize that time, thinking it was a time of peace and the freedom you think so lacking with the First Order. Let me tell you what life was like under the Jedi," he said, bringing his face close to hers. "They took children - anyone identified early as having powers - away from their parents and they brainwashed them. They taught them that feelings were bad, something to be suffocated and stamped out. Pride, anger, sadness, disappointment, ambition - all things that these child soldiers were taught that they were not entitled to. They were to be mindless and obedient slaves to the Jedi order living a monastic existence until the end of their lives.
All the drives which push civilizations and individuals toward greatness were things that the Jedi found abhorrent. And the galaxy stagnated under their rule. Innovation ceased. Exploration halted. The Jedi forced their backward beliefs even onto those they deemed unworthy of being Jedis. Those under their rule were to follow their beliefs and to deify the Jedi. And here you are, blindly adopting their dogma without ever considering that the Sith might be the better alternative. The Sith worship progress and accomplishment, did you know that?" His eyes burned into hers.
What he was saying went against everything she'd ever believed, but he clearly believed what he was telling her, and - for the first time - she felt a seed of doubt about the world view she'd held her entire life.
"You, everything you've accomplished, terrified Luke Skywalker," he said, gentling his grip on her chin. "I felt your heartbreak when you received yet another rejection from someone whose acceptance you craved. Well, know that no Sith would ever reject you for how powerful you've become. You would be feared, but you would also be honoured and respected. You would belong."
Rey swallowed thickly, knowing he would be able to sense the desperate longing his words caused. The look in his eyes said he did, and that he was just as desperate for her to accept what he was saying.
"And you would be allowed to feel. Anger. Ambition. Sadness. Thirst for knowledge. Whatever is inside you would be yours to feel." He paused, then laid his hand over her stomach. "You could have children, instead of living the barren existence of a Jedi slave."
She wondered if he could feel her heart racing, since it seemed to her to be thundering so hard that he must. His hand seemed to be burning her skin even through the material of her top. She felt an ache somewhere inside her at the idea of creating a child. Strange, but it was something she'd never really thought of before, always focused on finding her next meal and surviving. But what if she could live a life free of hunger and fear? What if she could make a child to give all the love to that she'd always yearned for. Love...something he hadn't mentioned in his list of permissible emotions.
He'd drifted closer to her, and she could feel his breath against her lips.
"What about love?" she whispered.
He pulled back, and his gaze lowered for a moment before coming back to hers. "Love is discouraged, since it leads to weakness that can be used against you." Honest as ever.
The intensity of the disappointment she felt at hearing that he could never love her was humiliating.
His hand came up to capture her chin gently between thumb and forefinger. "But there are unions based on mutual respect," he said softly, leaning closer again. "And passion." His lips met hers, and nothing could have prepared her for the onslaught of sensation.
His lips were soft yet demanding, moving against hers and setting every nerve ending to tingling. When he drew her lower lip into his mouth and sucked, she felt a sharp ache between her legs. She could sense the need that he was keeping barely controlled, not wanting to scare her, and she suddenly knew that he had been wanting to do this for months.
His hand slid up her side, and his tongue plunged into her mouth, stroking desperately against hers. Suddenly he was atop her, his chest pressed to hers, his hardness cradled by her mound. He ground into her and she moaned into his mouth, bucking her hips up to meet his.
He suddenly braced himself on his forearms and broke their kiss to look down at her as he grated, "This. This is what you could have with me." His lips came crashing back down.
