Kylo's expression teeters between irritation and concern. Rey slips past him to stand once more in front of Hux's desk. She's already wasted enough time fighting with her own reflection. She isn't going to try and explain that to either man now. "I hope you can look past that moment of… personal weakness," she manages to admit. It's as close to asking for forgiveness as Rey is willing to try. There's only forward, never back, within the Order.
The General slides his gaze from Rey to Kylo and back again. "I understand that can come with the territory of your speciality," Hux says quietly. Rey catches glimpses of sparking control panels, echoes of some violent memory of the man in front of her. She didn't mean to dive into his mind and reels away from it swiftly. Kylo falls into step beside her. His presence steadies her control over the Force. It's too easy to take from everyone around her, to seize the invisible threads of the fabric of reality and bend them to her thoughts.
"It won't happen again," Rey promises once again after taking a deep breath. She won't break her word. "Is there anything further that you still wished to discuss about Dameron? Perhaps another interrogator would be better suited for extracting the information he has."
Kylo turns his head. He's not wearing his helmet, Rey realizes. She can see how the wall lights reflect in his eyes. It's a tiny detail but still, he is more human here than she's seen before. Concern doesn't belong in those deep, brown eyes. "What does he know?" Kylo asks.
"Intel on sensitive targets. Your mother, General Organa, most importantly," Hux replies. His features sharpen as he glares up at Rey's mentor. "Your apprentice was unsuccessful in determining exactly how much Dameron knows about her current whereabouts. Perhaps this can be a teaching moment?"
It hurts, being reminded of her failure, but she is not Hux's primary target here. These two are constantly at one another's throats, baying wolves trying to choke the life out of one another. Kylo bristles. "I've told you before to stop interfering with what I teach my apprentice," Kylo says.
"I almost had it," Rey insists. Their power play doesn't matter, shouldn't be the focus of this conversation. She looks between the two men who refuse to cease glaring at one another. "If Dameron was unaware or properly distracted, I could have figured it out. He knew I was looking around in his head, and he got the better of me."
Hux settles back in his chair. His lip curls in a sly smile. "She is a clever one. Show her how to use that and get me that intel," Hux says.
Kylo turns his gaze on Rey now. The concern from earlier is gone, masked by frustration. He studies Rey's face. She stands firmly now with her hands by her side, no longer quaking with her own internal struggles. Exhaustion lingers behind the facade she's reconstructed, but at least she has stamped out the questions that Dameron's presence resurrected. Her position here is what she chose. Rey the Resistance Pilot is no more.
If Kylo sees the shadow of those doubts, Rey cannot tell. His irritation makes him indecipherable even in the Force. Rey nods tightly to reassure him, to reassure herself. Kylo looks back at Hux. "You don't give me orders," he insists.
"That's the hill you're choosing to die upon? I can tell the Supreme Leader of your refusal to help with a simple interrogation." Hux's face reddens while he speaks, but still he continues. He claws one hand at his shirt collar as Rey realizes that Kylo's clenched fingers have also seized the air around Hux's throat. "Does your mother still hold such a claim to your heart? You won't attempt to find her? Coward," Hux chokes. He has no more air to mock Kylo with now.
It's not a maneuver that Rey's familiar with yet, but she knows all too well the red-hot fury that Kylo is falling prey to. Spreading her fingers wide, the Force reacts to her and grants the general a brief reprieve. Realization flashes in Kylo's eyes and his hand relaxes. His head twists to stare at Rey.
Don't, she pushes. Nothing pulls in response.
Kylo turns on his heel and storms for the door. "You'll get your intelligence," he spits. The doors slid shut behind him leaving Rey once again alone with the general. Rey relaxes her grip on the force and breathes normally once again.
She still has to tread the uncomfortable line of following both Kylo and Hux's orders, so she is not yet dismissed. The tension in the room has declined from a fever pitch to barely palpable once more. The general regards her once again, eternally taking his measure of her. Her actions have added another weight to the balance though Rey can only guess whether it's improved or further ruined her worth to him.
"Whatever you fear becoming or leaving behind, be sure to not become that," he spits, gesturing to the door. "You can go now."
There was no discussion of her change in appearance. Rey had taken joy in that at the moment, but now In the confines of her chambers Rey folds in on herself as the last dredges of her panic sap away her strength. It's barely the middle of second shift but she is just too tired to remain awake.
Sleep brings a resurgence of worry. Dameron mocks her and pleads for mercy in equal measure. When Rey wakes again, she still hears wordless echos in her mind.
The Force is eerily quiet - not calm, but quiet - when Rey delves into it for meditation. The sensation of trepidation is near impossible to escape. There's a dissonance hanging just on the edge of her awareness; she cannot bring the peace she feels around her to overcome the unsettlement that her dreams have once again brought. Peeling her eyes open again, Rey storms to the refresher to once again stare at her own reflection.
It's not the same as yesterday. She cannot see her old self underneath her hungry, dark eyes, and the sheer crop of her hair only further masks her own past from view. Even with her jacket off and her shirt half-buttoned, she looks the part she's chosen - as one of the Order's dogs. Thinking of herself as just another cog in the machine doesn't help, but it's better than questioning where she is.
Biting her lip, Rey cards her hands through her hair. A droid can clean up the rough edges and properly trim down the parts that her saber was too unwieldy to change. She cut it too far to match any of the tightly pulled back hairstyles of the senior female officers, but Rey likes the way that she can't tie any of it back. It has to be short to remain out of the way. Punching in a command, she calls a droid. As she waits, she decides she wants to leave just a bit of length to push it up the way she can now.
It isn't a Resistance cut, and once the droid finishes its trimming Rey is satisfied that she doesn't blend quite as much into the rank and file. For one, she doesn't wear the stupid hats everyone else does. A smirk alights to her lips. It's her mask. One less garish and overdone than Kylo's, but it still does its job of distinguishing her.
The agony from yesterday is easy to put behind herself once she's cleaned up. It's amazing how powerful a neatly fastened jacket could help to put her mind right. Rey belts on her saber and sets off to the training gym on deck.
Sparring with Kylo's Knights is tiresome. For them, not for Rey. As a physical challenge it does its job of keeping her on her toes and reinforcing her saber skills. Nothing more. It doesn't matter to her what the outcome is so long as she's breathing harder than she has air for and moving faster than her thoughts can fly.
One of the older ones remarks on how she's losing more than she's winning. He says it with a crooked grin and more than an edge of challenge. Why won't she rise to it?
Rey slides her saber back onto her belt and shakes out her sweat-streaked hair. Anger curls in her gut, but she's only vaguely aware that it sits there. "Get out of my face, Reddick," Rey says flatly. He takes her holstering motion as surrender and his arrogance grows.
When his posture slumps back to his normal simpering curl, Rey knows that Kylo has arrived. His presence pushes against the back of her skull. Her palms thrum, blood rushing in hot bursts through her veins.
Kylo hadn't bothered to bring her by Dameron once since the meeting with the general. She doesn't want to listen to what he's come to say now. She hooks one foot behind the other to twist about. "I've already sparred," she says to cut off whatever wisdom he has brought to bear tonight. There's little chance that he'll bring her to interrogate the prisoner if he sought her out here among the mats and practice weapons. Perhaps if she'd been on the upper deck, alone with the stars and the galaxy to connect with the Force.
He grips her forearm as she moves to leave. "For how long?"
"Long enough." Rey forces her jaw to unclench. She's already had a tension headache three times this week.
He chuckles at her obvious lie. Behind the mask he might be smirking. Or sneering with derision. No. That was the general's habit, not Kylo's.
His grip on her forearm remains. "Show me your form," he orders. Rey is released when her fingers close around her saber's hilt. Reddick still lurks nearby, making busy with a spear fitted with vibro-blades. Rey lashes out at him to initiate her motion through the forms.
Reddick reacts quickly enough, and his shoulder will recover from the heat blister from her deflected blow well before next month. For all the brute's bullheaded approach to her, Reddick is a skilled fighter. He's lasted long for a reason. Rey slips between attack and defense as smoothly as her over-worked shoulder can manage.
Hand shaking, Rey snarls and throws her weight behind the next strike. Her hand flushes hot again, though her feet are cold and her chest is tight. Reddick fumbles his block and backpedals away. Stepping in closer, Rey follows tight on his toes.
He should be fighting back harder. Rey wants him to give her the challenge, form patterns be damned. As Reddick once again refuses to match her blows Rey snaps her blade down and across the front of his chestplate.
Her saber snarls and crackles along its usual tried-and-true beam. Blue burning white-hot and heat burning past the barrier on the hilt. Reddick's twisted expression isn't irritation; it's fear.
A/N: Slightly shorter chapter. Let me know if you're still keeping an eye on this fic. Been sitting on the front half of this chapter for way too long to not figure out how to post it.