Chapter 10: Starkiller Science: Go to Sleep

Summary: As the drama surrounding Trooper SC-4341 comes to a close, you are forced to re-evaluate your own abilities as well as the motivations behind Kylo Ren's seemingly erratic behaviour.

SC-4341 died that night.

You were the only one in the medical ward to witness his passing. His breathing had been in a full rattle for hours, hideous and disturbing as he seemed to struggle for breath. You knew that it wasn't really a struggle—not with the morphine to slow his chest and shallow out each inhale. But the noise was still something that you had never been prepared for—the gurgling that occurred as air rushed over mucous in the throat. It was like seeing a fish out of water, slowly suffocating. Why you had brought yourself to watch, you didn't know. Maybe it was because Amena had gone to bed for a few hours, and you didn't want him to be alone when it was obvious that he had one foot already in the afterlife.

Eventually, the breaths had become further apart. Thirty seconds. A minute. And then at 3:42 in the morning, they stopped all together.

You entered the time into the computer monitor and then shut it off so that you could be left in the dark with the lifeless Trooper. All that you wanted to do was sit there in silence and let the tears run down your face as you stared up at the ceiling. You drew your legs to your chest and kept thinking about how this shouldn't have happened.

"I am such a failure," you mumbled over and over again.

Quiet footsteps broke into your mantra, and you caught sight of Kylo Ren entering into the room. He didn't bother to turn the lights on but slowly walked to the foot of the bed, his hands leaning on the bed railing.

"I could feel him die," Kylo said.

"Huh?"

He slipped away from the bed and walked over to where you were so that he could sit on the floor with his back against the wall. You were surprised to see him without his helmet anywhere near and without his usual black coat and attire. It was obvious that he had been relaxing or possibly even sleeping, seeing as how he was in a loose grey jumper and black pants that hadn't been fully tucked into his boots. His hair was a mess, waves sticking out in nearly every direction.

"It was the Force," he explained. "You can feel it in each person. And you can feel it leave."

You tried to dry the tears that had covered your face so that he couldn't see just how upset you were. Right now, all you wanted was some privacy, maybe a little emotional numbing, and a lot of silence.

Thankfully, Kylo was usually pretty good at keeping his mouth shut.

Letting out a long, struggling sigh, you gave him a little 'thank you' before staring out into space. Kylo seemed as glum as you did, though you couldn't imagine why. He pulled one leg up to his chest with the other straight out, just casual as he watched you. Watched those tears roll down the sides of your cheeks and back into your hair. Why did he have to watch you? Why did the hair on your neck and arms raise when he did that? Was it alarm? Why? Why?

It took a few minutes for Kylo to break the silence that hung between you. "He said 'thank you' as well."

You looked over at him, slightly confused.

Kylo nodded toward the Trooper. "It was the last thing I could hear when I came by yesterday. He said 'thank you'."

Your lip began to quiver, and you looked away from Kylo and back toward the ceiling, trying your damnedest to not break into a full sob before him. But you couldn't help it. You couldn't help but feel ashamed and angry and hopeless and so incredibly disappointed in yourself.

You felt Kylo's hand on your knee, giving a little squeeze, and you wanted to shake him off, but you also just wanted something alive to hold. You had been holding SC-4341's hand as he died, and it was so cold—so incredibly cold and weak. And here was Kylo, his warm palm against your knee, doing nothing and everything at the same time. Almost instinctively, you reached down, your hand on his, holding on for dear life.

"I tried so fucking hard," you gasped, almost choking on the sobs that were ripping from your chest. "But I'm such a disappointment!"

Kylo didn't say a word, nor did he move. His hand just stayed there, gripping your knee every time you sobbed. You had worked your fingers in between his and continued to cry until your eyes burned and throat felt like it was on fire.

After a while, you finally felt him stir, and you saw Kylo stand up, your hand still in his.

"Go to bed," he commanded. He pulled you from the chair and started to guide you from the Trooper's room. "You've been here long enough."

"No, no." You tried to get back into the room, but he blocked the doorway. Damn him being so tall and broad shouldered; you can't get past him at all. "I don't want Amena to discover him when she gets here in the morning. I don't want it to scare her. I don't want-"

"NO." Kylo was holding onto your shoulders. "You're disgusting. Go get some sleep."

"You get some sleep." You tried to sound mean, but instead your voice just came out pathetically.

Kylo rolled his eyes. "I'll stay here and tell Amena. But if you don't leave, I will make you."

You stood there for a minute, trying to decide what to do. It was as if your mind just wouldn't work. You couldn't make any decisions. You were too tired, too upset, too fed up with everything that had been happening to you for weeks. The very ground beneath you was crumbling, and you were slipping through the cracks like water.

"Why are you doing this?" you asked.

"Because I've seen death a thousand times without blinking an eye," he replied. "You haven't."

Kylo gently turned you around so that you were facing the entrance of the medical ward. The lights ahead seemed so bright, so cold and cheerless. You didn't want to walk forward, didn't want to move your feet even though you hungered for the release of sleep. It could be your own temporary death.

"I don't want to go," you whispered.

He moved you down the hall with a small push against your back until you were on the other side of the medical ward's large, sliding doors. Releasing his grip on your shoulder and other hand on the middle of your back, Kylo stood at the doorway, once again blocking it so that you couldn't enter. He folded his arms over his chest, making sure to stand firmly so that you knew there was no getting past him, no fighting and clawing your way back into a dead man's room.

"Tell Amena that I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" he almost laughed. "I can guarantee that you've done nothing in your life to be sorry for."

You had no idea what he meant by that, and you were too tired to ask. It was difficult enough to keep yourself together without breaking into sobs again, so you turned around and left him standing there. At first, it was just a stumbling walk, but then you gained momentum. You were running. Running as fast as it was possible to get away from everything and find the sanctuary of your cat, of your bed, of endless words to distract yourself. Anything to distract yourself from this reality.

Thank God hardly anyone was around at this hour as you escaped to your apartment. You chanced a look at your watch; it was already past five in the morning. Troopers would be waking up now. You ran faster, making a sharp turn at the end of the 300s hallway where it connected to the other seven halls in a circular lobby. A few Troopers and personnel were already there, making their way to early-morning shifts. You slowed, not wanting to cause alarm or any more attention than was necessary.

As you turned down your own hallway, you saw a few of the captains ahead in their dark uniforms, and you recognised them immediately. What a strange coincidence that the two men who had originally offered you a contract to stay on this bloody satellite were now walking before you, as though everything had come horrifically full circle.

Captain Ardeus Stratoveer and his underling, Captain Halpin Maltolpol, were both making their way toward the command centre, looking mildly exhausted. You tried not to make eye-contact, tried to look down at your feet as you power walked. Captain Maltolpol, in all of his golden, friendly glory managed to give you a smile and 'good morning'. But Stratoveer didn't bother to hide his disgust at your appearance—at your hair being dirty and messy, the tears that were running down your cheeks, the red puffiness under your eyes.

"Don't fucking look at me," you hissed whilst walking by. You didn't know if the words slipped from your lips because of his glaring or because of Kylo's influence on your opinion of the captain, but either way, it was said and done. Stratoveer stiffened and rolled his shoulders back as he kept walking, as though everything he did was a show of getting rid of your presence.

Whatever. They didn't matter.

After they had passed, you continued your running, this time at a full sprint down the hall until you were finally at your door. Getting inside, into the dark enclaves of your apartment where Pickles was waiting, was all that you wanted at this moment. Without bothering to turn on a single light, you let yourself fall into bed, dreading the moment you would awake.

Less than twenty four hours later, Talia had a new specimen in her office. She poked and prodded at the fresh brain that sat on a scale, and then she slowly, ever so carefully, began to slice it apart into thin sections.

You couldn't watch. It felt too personal. And you didn't understand how she could be humming to herself as that brain sat before her—a brain that had been inside of a living, breathing human being just a day before. How she did it and still slept at night was beyond you.

The strange thing about grief is that it can bend time to fit to its will. Not yours. Not anyone else's. Mourning seemed to carry you blindly through the following days. Sometimes, it felt as though you were in a slow fog, shrouded, lost. And then your attention would fade, making an hour feel like a minute. Every other moment was either hyper real or thoroughly numbing.

With the way that things were going, you had been tempted to skip eating dinner in the cafeteria and just haul up in your apartment where you could roll into your duvet. And that's what would have happened if you hadn't been abruptly stopped as you left yours and Talia's office. A strong hand was at your shoulder as you locked the office door, and you didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

Kylo Ren was there, his helmet held under one arm and his other hand moving to your back to usher you along down the hall.

"What...?" You weren't sure why he was there, but you also didn't mind all that much. If anything, his presence made you the happiest you had been in days, which struck you as odd. Of course, it was difficult to be truly happy when in your current state, but it was something close.

"You haven't eaten today or yesterday." Kylo didn't need to ask you. It was obvious by your tired eyes and hunched posture that you hadn't had a meal in a while.

"I haven't been hungry."

He wrapped his arm so that his hand was at your waist, guiding you beside him. "That isn't a proper excuse."

"I watched him die in front of me... Food is the last thing that I'm thinking of."

Kylo stopped walking for a moment, his eyes scanning the hallway to see if anyone was around. You slipped from his hand that had been at your waist and had decided that now was your chance to leave and bolt for your apartment, but instead, Kylo pulled you closer so that his lips were at your ear, whispering.

"You will never forget the first person who dies in front of you."

And then he let go, allowing you to take a step back. Frankly, you were slightly confused and possibly a little alarmed to think of just how many people had died in front of Kylo Ren.

"Do you remember yours?" you asked.

He nodded, grimacing. "Every day. But we aren't meant to forget."

Then he started walking again and looked over his shoulder to see if you were following. Not really knowing what else to do with yourself, you scampered along to join him. He lead you to the cafeteria, where you thought he would leave since you had never once seen him eat around others, but instead, he entered with you, grabbed his own tray of food, and made sure that you sat down at the table in the third alcove with Captain Phasma and General Hux rather than at a very tempting table in the corner that was vacant.

Then, in a way that only Kylo Ren could have managed to make awkward, he sat down beside you.

Kylo's presence hadn't gone unnoticed. When he sat, the entire cafeteria hushed as Troopers and personnel alike watched him. Even Captain Phasma and Hux seemed surprised that he should join them, but Kylo pretended to not notice as he started to eat. Neither of them made a comment but continued their own conversation.

You were perfectly content to allow the awkwardness and focus be upon Kylo Ren. It was less eyes on you as you pushed food around your plate with your fork rather than eat it. Less people to ask you about the Trooper. Less people to tell you that you'd surely 'fix' the next ill Trooper—as though SC-4341 was just another link in the chain of human misery.

"Eat something," Kylo urged between bites.

All that you could manage were a few bites of canned fruit and half a slice of bread, but apparently, that was enough to satisfy Kylo Ren who proceeded to not only eat his own food but finish the rest of yours as well. You didn't mind; it wasn't as though you were going to eat it, anyway. You just quietly held your face in your hands and watched him eat, watched as he made snarky comments to Hux and jokingly bickered with Phasma. The way that he smiled whilst talking to them sent your stomach into flips, and you weren't sure why. But every single time that his lips curled to show his teeth or his eyes crinkled as he delivered a particularly sarcastic come back, you started to grin. It was something that Kylo was completely aware of, which he made sure to mention as he walked with you back to your apartment.

"I wish that I could have been inside your head," he said as you both stood before your front door. "Don't think that I didn't see you."

"Yikes," you mumbled. "You weren't in my head, were you?" You didn't want him to know that you were smiling at seeing him happy—especially when you didn't even know why it had been so satisfying to see him that way.

"No. You would have known if I was."

"Good. No one is allowed into my thoughts without my permission."

"One day, I seek to have that permission."

You rolled your eyes. "Don't hold your breath."

He laughed, his mouth flashing a cocky smile, and you could feel yourself holding your own breath. You bit at your bottom lip, eyebrows pulling together as you tried to figure out what in the hell he was doing to you. Was this the Force at work? Or was it something all together quite different?

You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts, and opened your door to step inside. Kylo made no move to follow you but lifted his helmet so that it was on his head, ready to hide that grinning face of his. You hated that damned mask more than usual this evening.

In one smooth motion, the helmet was on, his voice now a threatening rumble. "Until next time, Doctor."

A/N: Kind of a downer, eh? Initially, I had thought about having SC-4341 live through this ordeal of anti-NMDA receptor encephalitis, but it didn't seem like it would be believable. IDK, but I don't see folks from the Star Wars universe having access to Dr. Josep Dalmau's recent research from the University of Pennsylvania that would have allowed them to cure him. For those of you interested in more death and dying literature, I also recommend reading Sherwin Nuland's 'How We Die: Reflections on Life's Final Chapter'. It was required reading for my Death, Dying, and Grief in Older Adults course two years ago and is an excellent resource in understanding both the physical and emotional aspects of death by various circumstances. You can also check out Atul Gawande's 'Being Mortal' documentary that was produced by Frontline (PBS) a year ago. It is well worth an hour of your time and can be watched for free on the PBS website. And then, if you just want to punch yourself in the face with feelings about death, there's always Bill Moyer's documentaries.