In the space of a few short hours, the Chaata's first prophecy came to pass—the medicine did wear off quickly.

Rey began the descent plodding steadily behind Kylo Ren. Before they had even reached the Brittle Hills, she was forced to lean against the rocky wall of the Pass to keep her balance. By the time they encountered the first trail markers leading down into the foothills, the rock walls had long since disappeared, and she was forced to swallow her pride and accept the arm of the monster himself as her support.

To his credit, he did not sneer at her weakness, nor did he taunt her for needing his help. By the third time she stumbled, he extinguished his blade, replaced it on his belt, and drew her arm around his shoulders, hefting her fully onto his back.

Rey would have liked to protest. She would have liked to demand that he let her down and allow her the use of her own two feet, but she was tired—dreadfully tired. It seemed to her that they had stopped twice to sleep on the way up to the Pass, but now he rarely halted, even for a few moments of rest.

She could see nothing without the light of his blade, and wondered how he managed to find his way along the narrow trail. All the same, she was thankful for the darkness. She could pretend it was someone else's shoulder her cheek rested upon.

It became nearly impossible for her to mark the passing of time. Always, he walked downward, and his even footsteps were the only thing she could focus on besides pain. She suspected that she was drifting in and out consciousness, for at times she heard voices that she knew should not be there with her. It was becoming ever more difficult for her to discern what was real.

At last he stopped, and the absence of his steps and the sway of his body, momentarily jarred her fully awake.

"We've reached the edge of the Resurrection Field," his deep voice informed her. She could feel the vibration of him speaking through his back. "We'll rest here briefly."

He knelt slowly, and she thought she detected a slight tremor in his movements. There were limits to even the strength of a monster, she realized as she tried to stand on her own feet. She took a step back and immediately collapsed—unable to support her own weight. In fact trying to stay upright made her feel extremely light-headed, and so she lay down at once.

She could see the dim glow that came from the flat stretch of land beneath them, and recognized the faint colors from her first trip across it—although she hadn't been so cold then. When had it become so cold? She couldn't remember. Perhaps it was only the loss of warmth that came from him. She shivered.

"A bad time to be a Jedi," a voice informed her.

She looked up to see a boy standing over her. He wore a long grey tunic, the sort of robe favored by desert dwellers for its light weight and yet full cover. Dark, untidy hair fell over his thin face. As she watched, he reached up to brush the hair back from his eyes, but as soon as he dropped his hand, the hair settled back in its place.

There was something not quite right about the boy. Perhaps it was the fact that he seemed to emit the same faint glow as the field beneath him.

"I said it's a bad time to be a Jedi," the boy repeated. "If you go now, they won't have to know you were here."

"Not... real," Rey rasped, hoping to vanish him.

"Sit up, Rey," Kylo Ren ordered her.

When she did not comply, she felt the cool leather of his glove slide beneath her neck and tilt her head slightly. The water flask was pressed to her lips, and she drank greedily, not realizing how thirsty she was until that moment, but her throat constricted as she tried to swallow and she coughed up most of it.

The boy shook his head sadly.

"Even if you run, they'll find you. Hide well youngling. You're far too small and weak to fight—" the boy warned.

"We're close," she gasped. "Too close to it…"

"Not close enough," Kylo disagreed. "The citadel is still more than half a day's walk from the other side of the Field."

"No… the Field… can't you…" Rey's voice trailed off.

She glanced between the boy's pale, glowing face and the grim visage of the monster beside her. He could not see what spoke to her. She closed her eyes, determined that she would not see it either.

"Rey?" Kylo gave her shoulder a firm shake.

"Go away," she whispered.

She regretted her words immediately, as the monster removed his hand, and left her adrift in the dark. She hadn't meant him, but the boy did had not understood her meaning either, for even with her eyes closed, he spoke to her:

"He won't save you, you know. He acts like he will, but he can't. He's a liar!"

It was more frightening to feel alone with only the voice, and so she opened her eyes and sought the comfort of the sight of Kylo Ren. He was crouched nearby, staring down at the Field, and the glow that came from beneath them made his face appear slightly luminous as well. The mask had gone, she couldn't recall when. Perhaps a long time ago, when he first fell into the crevice. She hadn't noticed.

"You aren't listening to me!" the boy accused, and he stepped between her and Kylo Ren, demanding her attention. "Are you thick? You are, aren't you?! You're as thick as a hutt's ass! I said leave! Leave, or you'll be sorry!"

"Stop. Go away!" Rey breathed.

Kylo spoke then, but she couldn't make out his words. From the boy's hand, came the green flash of a light saber being activated, and Rey tried to raise her hand against the blow she knew would come, but her arms were heavy.

"No," she cried, "please stop!"

"I warned you," the boy growled, and brought the blade down.

Rey tried to scream, but the sound died in her throat. What touched her hand was not the searing blow a light saber blade, but the strong grasp of another's hand.

"You're hallucinating," Kylo Ren informed her. "Whatever you're seeing now, it isn't real."

"The Field.."

"It isn't the Field, Rey. We aren't close enough. The infection is in your blood. Enough rest. We're moving on."

"No," she said, shaking her head slightly. "No. You can't… I'm stronger than you think. I'll be fine… still far, isn't it? You can sleep… a bit. I'm tired anyhow."

"No. We'll rest later. Come on," he lifted her arm, and slid his hand beneath her, but Rey shook her head, and tried to pull away. He was a human, mostly, and surely he was nearing his limits. He would need strength to get them both across the Field, strength he likely didn't have after carrying her down through the Brittle Hills.

With a short sigh of frustration, he dropped her arm, and then reached up to stroke the side of her forehead. It was the last thing she remembered.

An explosion of light and sound brought her out of a troubled sleep. There was too much of it! Bright and hot, like the sun on Jakku the light was strong enough to turn the blackness behind her eyelids to a fiery red, and when she tried to open them, it hurt. She held her hand up to shield her face, but found that her arm was quickly snatched and secured to her side. Her other arm was bound as well. She couldn't move!

Voices whispered and warned and called to one another, and whether they were real or not, she could not say. There was too much light to see anything.

She remembered his touch and wondered if she were dreaming again, if this were some new nightmare brought on by the poison of the Resurrection Field, and she called out to him, but he was not there, because surely she would know. Surely she would hear the drum beat that came from him if he was close.

She remembered the pain next, because it sharpened in an instant, and it seemed that a red hot iron had been touched to the wound. The sharp and unimaginable agony that shot through her at that moment erased every other thought from her head. She could smell flesh burning. If her stomach were not empty, she would have puked. She could feel the taste of acid in her mouth, and then… fortunate, blessed nothingness again.

"Rey," his deep voice whispered, "Are you awake, Rey?"

She was now. The light had gone. It was dark behind her eyelids again, and the horrible pain had gone, but the weariness had not—nor the cold. She shivered beneath her cloak.

"No," she answered, and heard him release a long breath.

He must have stopped to rest at last. Perhaps they had crossed the Field, though if memory served her well, they should have been among the ash spikes—he had a name for them, but she couldn't recall what it was. Perhaps her memory was not so good after all.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

It did, of course, but infinitely less than it had. Her foot had become a dull throbbing thing, a thousand times more endurable than what it had been before. Perhaps that was a bad sign, and he would immediately insist upon moving on, but she was so tired! Rey shivered again, and drew the cloak tighter around her body.

"Cold," she murmured.

"I'll fetch you another blanket. I'm afraid we don't have any body temperature regulators here."

"Funny!" she scoffed, annoyed by his sarcasm.

The weight of another layer of cloth fell over her, and she opened her eyes to see that he was leaning over her in different clothing than she remembered. The ceiling behind his head was slightly arched and somewhat familiar.

"Where am I?" she whispered.

"The Citadel. You've been in and out of consciousness over the last three days. What do you remember?"

She shivered again, and glanced about herself. The room itself was not one she recognized, though its furnishings were very similar to the small apartment she had first seen. This time she found it comforting instead of sterile. He, however, did not look well. His hair hung lank and unwashed framing a face that seemed paler than usual. Dark circles beneath his eyes gave him a rather haunted expression.

"The Field… I remember reaching the Resurrection Field. The boy there wouldn't go away…and then you made me sleep!" she accused.

"The boy?"

"He told me to leave this place, and said you couldn't be trusted," she remembered.

"You were unwell—hallucinating. You remembered the story I told you of the Vulgas boy and imagined him there. The medic said that you called out in your sleep, though your words made little sense. He came very close to taking your foot."

Frightened, Rey lifted the blanket and glanced down, but was immediately reassured by the sight of her heavily bandaged foot.

Lifting the blanket even for so brief a moment had chilled her, and she shivered again.

"Why can't I get warm?" she wondered, and closed her eyes.

"Your body is still fighting the infection. It's the fever."

He rested one large hand against the side of her face— it was so warm that she did not protest.

"You carried me," she mumbled, "You saved my life on the Resurrection Field, and during the raid on Ka'vec. I don't understand you."

"Because you would kill me if given half a chance?" he asked.

Rey considered it. She wanted to agree, but deep down, she suspected that she could not. She had hesitated even on Starkiller Base when she had very much wanted to end his life.

"Not right now, I wouldn't," she whispered.

"Not right now?" he repeated.

"Your hand is warm."

He made a low noise in his throat that might have been a laugh, and laid his other hand across her shoulder. She could feel its warmth through the blanket.

"Why are you being kind to me?" she asked.

"It isn't kindness to keep you alive, Rey. I have use for you."

"What use?"

"To let me train you. To allow me to be your teacher."

"I've seen how many acolytes there are in this place. I'm sure one of them would love to be your apprentice. Why can't you chose someone else? Someone who wants to be your student? I already have a teacher."

"It has to be you, or I'll never complete the Supreme Leader's training."

"You've been following Snoke's orders all this time," she realized, and for some reason it made her blood boil.

"You will come to understand how wise the Supreme Leader is in time."

She considered it, traveling by the side of Kylo Ren the way she had with Master Luke. Although his hands were warm and comforting now, they had done much evil, bringing death to a vast number of people. She had seen their bloodied and twisted bodies on the Field. She could not imagine herself apprenticed to the Dark Side, the student of Kylo Ren. Yet if she continued to refuse him, his patience would one day wane, and without her Force abilities, one of those large warm hands was all he would need to snap her neck.

"I will train you, Rey. You may hate me if you wish. Perhaps it is better that you do."

"The way you hate your master? Will you train me the same way he trained you—with pain and torture? Is that what you mean?"

He drew back and she almost groaned at the loss of warmth from his hands.

"Pain is learning," he murmured.

"Then teach me now," she growled, opening her eyes. "I'm weak and I can't defend myself. Use the Force against me the way he did to you. Make me scream and writhe and beg. Make me hate you. That's what you want, isn't it?"

He watched her without blinking, his expression detached yet focused… and then he smirked. Irrational anger surged through her. She sat up, ignoring the fact that being upright caused the room to spin. She was tired of being toyed with, of being trapped and dependent on a cruel, sadistic monster. Had she truly thought she couldn't kill him? What she wouldn't give for a light saber now!

"Master Luke will find me!"

"I do hope so. It will save me the trouble of finding him."

Rey wasn't sure if her body was shaking from anger or from cold.

"So that you can do to him what you did to Han Solo?" she hissed.

"You barely knew Han Solo."

"I know you! That's more than enough. I see your dreams, even here on this dead rock of a planet. I used to think you a creature in a mask—a terrifying beast, but I know better now. You're something far worse than that. You make people believe there's some good in you, you make them believe that there's something that might be saved, but there's nothing! There's nothing but darkness, and death. You're a trap. You give them hope so they won't suspect your blade."

"By your own mouth, anything, even slavery is bearable if a fool can hope," he sneered.

Rey threw back the blankets and stood, clenching her fists. She was cold no longer. If pain was learning, she would teach him a lesson now. She could feel the power in her veins. The electric, vibrating strength that flowed through her, and knew that she could turn it against him. She could reach out with her mind and…

The throbbing of his heart thudded in her ears. It beat rapidly, too fast for his calm, arrogant appearance to be true. Not from fear… not fear of her at least, of that she was certain.

He had set another trap, she realized.

In her rage and hatred, she had once again managed to draw on the Dark Force, and when she understood, she closed her eyes and shook her head—willing herself to be calm.

"No, scavenger!" he growled. "Don't let it go. Use it. Use the Force to make yourself strong! Look how weak you are without your Master— useless and fragile, shivering from cold! That is what the light does to you, it makes you weak! Be strong, Rey- stronger than your master."

"And that's what the Dark has done for you… it's made you stronger?" she demanded, but her anger was fading, and her hands were so cold they shook. She hid them behind her back so that he would not see.

He shot out of the chair and snatched her chin, forcing her to stare directly into his eyes. She should have been afraid. He towered over her. Her energy was gone, and not just her hands, but her entire body now shook with chills. Perhaps he intended to hurt her, but such a comfortable heat he radiated. His hand was hot on her cold skin, his breath warm on her cheek, and she remembered lying her face against his shoulder and how warm his back had been.

"Hate me," he whispered.

"That is not the Jedi way."

"You are no Jedi, scavenger girl!"

She opened her mouth to reply, but he moved faster, and jerked her forward, sealing her lips with his own. She struggled to break free, but found herself crushed against his body as he wrapped his long arms around her. The heat of his body- even through the heavy fabric of his tunic- melted her, and it felt so good to be warm that she moaned against his lips.

He moved lower, running his lip down the side of her cheek and then trailing hungry, rough kisses down her neck. His mouth burned hot against her ice cold skin and she gasped at the sensation.

She must not lose her head. A Jedi must not give in to-

Kylo Ren, leader of the dark knights, murderer, monster, and enemy buried his face against her neck and made a sound that nearly broke her resolve, something between a groan of agony, and a cry of longing.

But when she, for reason she didn't know, raised her trembling hand to trace the angular line of his jaw, he jerked away as though he had been the one burnt, releasing her abruptly so that she stumbled and fell back against the cot.

He turned quickly away from her.

"If you aren't strong enough for anger, at the very least, don't be weak enough to die of fever," he growled.

Rey had no smart answer for his taunt. She was left stunned, reeling to try and understand what had just happened, and before she could gather herself enough to call him a dirty name, he had gone.