I think I rewrote this chapter like three times and I'm still not sure about it. It's a pretty big turning point in the story. Leave your thoughts, please! -Scarlet

C-10: Answers

I stood in the common area on the command shuttle, grateful for the lack of occupants, watching the stars glitter peacefully as we pulled out of hyperspace. It felt like we'd been away from base for days, but it had been barely over twelve hours. I took a deep breath through my nose, and released it slowly through my mouth.

I didn't want to think.

"You like the stars." Vegas was behind me, and I didn't care to think of how he managed to sneak up on me.

I nodded, feeling my head lull sleepily. My armor was tucked away in the cargo hold. "They're peaceful." A heartbeat of hesitation before I added, "I was born in space."

Vegas was standing close, but I didn't care. "I was, too," he said.

I looked back at him with questioning eyes. He looked as tired as I did.

"My parents were traders," he explained, eyes focused over my shoulder. Then, he looked down at me.

"I'm from a nomadic fleet." I felt my thoughts wander when I realized that I should have said was. Vegas nodded like he already knew. A comfortable silence fell as my gaze wandered back to the void.

"Do you miss it?" he murmured, as though the question was forbidden.

I pondered it. "Sometimes." Like now.

Vegas hummed in agreement, and that was the only time we ever talked about our pasts.

Exiting the command shuttle almost felt like routine, and I stood in the speed lift with Ren and Vegas feeling déjà vu. The silence was oppressing this time—Ren was not satisfied with the mission. When Vegas left us on Level 10, I felt all my confidence being ripped away with him. Even with my helmet on, my nerves flared when I was alone with Ren. Even when I was trailing behind him in the hallway, thinking of all the wrong things to say.

Before he entered his quarters, as if just realizing I was there, Ren turned to me. "Caltrel …"

I froze in my spot and faced him. "Sir?"

There was a pause, as if he was considering me. "I sensed your curiosity during the mission," he said. "Come by my quarters later. We'll speak then." His voice was almost weary.

I nodded rapidly, struck speechless by the request. A pool of nervous energy settled in my gut as entered the access code for my quarters. I took off my gear with robotic movements.

An hour later, my fingers typed my report at my terminal, but my mind was parsecs away. Ren had left right away—maybe to report to Snoke?—leaving me to wonder when exactly "later" was. When I heard him return some time after, I decided to stop by his quarters on my way back from Phasma's office.

The report forced me to think about the mission. When I reached the part about killing the merchant, my hands shook. It took my entire focus to not become sick at the thought. Vegas had encouraged me that everyone's first kill stayed with them for a while—I couldn't wait until it left me.

When I reached the part about the X-Wing pilots committing suicide before being interrogated, I left out the detail of Kylo Ren nearly choking the careless Stormtrooper guard to death.

I grappled the datacube out of my terminal when my report was finished. Slouching into my uniform, I left my quarters and soon discovered that Phasma's office was empty. I felt a lump rise in my throat as the lift ascended back up to Level 10.

I found my hand hovering over the door signal at Ren's quarters. Without my Stormtrooper armor on, I felt naked. I felt like the cowering Lucia Caltrel from my interrogation, not the tall Corporal Caltrel of the recon team. Withdrawing my hand, I decided to wait—

The door slid open suddenly, and I nearly jumped back in alarm. Ren stood in the doorway about a foot taller than I remembered, without his outer robe covering his wide frame. His hood was also down. "Corporal," he said, nodding his greeting. "Come in."

As I stepped inside, I tried to wipe the anxiety from my face. How I wished for my helmet now! The sheer advantage that his mask held left me feeling hopeless. I recalled that Vegas mentioned seeing Ren without his helmet once, and I vaguely wondered how he managed that too.

"Have a seat," Ren invited, gesturing to one of the gray couches in the sitting room.

I realized that his quarters were very similar to those on the command shuttle. Unlike my own, there was a separate bedroom with a private refresher and another door that was closed. I sat uneasily, clasping my hands tightly in my lap.

"Thank you for speaking with me," I said as he sat across from me. I disliked the waver in my voice.

"You're welcome," he said politely as I fidgeted. He sat down, leaning back in his seat, and I got the impression that he was tired. "I understand that you have questions." His tone was more relaxed than usual.

"Yes," I said, trying to remember the original question that spurred the conversation. Forcing a swallow, I asked. "How did you know I had potential for the reconnaissance team?"

His brief laugh was muffled by the helmet's filter. "You already know the answer to that," he said a bit knowingly.

As it did so often, my mind flashed back to my interrogation. Ren was silent as I put the pieces together in my mind. "When you looked in my mind," I said slowly, "you saw more than just the intel I had."

Ren leaned forward with his elbows on his knees in a rare human gesture. "When I enter someone's mind, we are joined in the Force. I know their desires, their fears; their strengths and weaknesses."

I was nodding. Such a thing was incomprehensible. "Ren"—I accidentally let the name slip—"what exactly is the Force?"

As silence reigned for several heartbeats, I once again wished to see his face. Did he appreciate my curiosity or detest it? It was impossible to tell.

"The Force is an ever-present energy of nature that is channeled especially through certain gifted individuals," he explained evenly.

"Like you," I said, immediately regretting pointing out the obvious.

He seemed patient, and nodded. "The Force is strong in my family."

I paused for a moment to consider this—it sounded like there were many other Force-sensitive individuals in the galaxy. Perhaps not as strong as Kylo Ren?

"No," he answered in a low tone. "Their false convictions about the Force led to their failure."

"Oh," I piped. "I … I didn't—"

A breathy laugh cut me short as Ren leaned back in his seat, and I got the picture that he was smiling. "Sometimes I can sense your thoughts very clearly," he said with amusement. "You're very"—a pause—"open minded."

I edged back in my seat unconsciously, my brow furrowing. "Are you in my mind now?"

He seemed to consider the question for a moment. "Not entirely."

I tried to search around inside my mind, not quite sure what I was looking for. I felt a presence among my thoughts, but it seemed too far out of reach. "Then—partially?" I choked out.

"I can sense your emotions—they're strong. I can't help but feel them," he said matter-of-factly.

My instincts told me to flee from this masked creature that repeatedly violated my human rights, but my curiosity demanded that I stay. I blinked at him, knowing that my face looked completely dumbfounded. What sort of being could possibly have this power?

My tongue spoke unprovoked. "Are you human?"

The helmet tilted to the side, and I felt his eyes on me. "Surely Vegas told you of my appearance."

I shook my head, feeling as though I had overstepped some undefined boundary. Embarrassment flooded me when I remembered the forbidden glance I stole the week before. I found myself dwelling on the image a little longer than necessary, and I suddenly realized that he was there. Watching the memory with me.

"Please—don't—" I was standing up. He was watching me, leaning forward, expectant. I couldn't rid my mind of the image, and he knew it. Was he causing it? I felt nearly delirious with the need to know if my imagination was at all accurate. The sudden desire to rip the helmet right off his head filled me.

"Don't worry," he said, just below a whisper. "Go on."

My hands clenched into fists. The urge became increasingly more difficult to resist. "You're in my mind," I stated on trembling lips.

"Yes," he agreed.

"You're causing this."

"No. I am simply exposing your desires."

My ears were ringing, piercing above the sound of my wild pulse. "Why?" I demanded in a breath.

"Because I once suppressed my desires as well. I'm free of that now," he explained, but I wasn't listening. Thoughts captive, hands shaking, my mind begged for release from the intrusion.

Air dragged into my lungs thickly as I moved to stand in front of him. His head reached my shoulders even as he sat. My movements became automatic as my hands reached around the back of his helmet. Fingers scrambling for a moment, I quickly found the release and heard a hiss of air as the respirator decompressed. It opened at the corners so that I could easily lift it off his head.

My wrists were suddenly seized by gloved hands, and brought roughly to my sides. My throat closed with surprise. His hands replaced mine and pulled off the helmet.

Something changed when I saw his face—I felt it. Ren was no longer a faceless superior with orders to obey, but a young man that held my attention absolutely captive. His head was tilted back slightly, and I watched as his dark eyes took in my reaction. His face was tired—very tired—but so, so young. A smile slid onto his lips as I stepped away.

"I shouldn't—" I began hastily, not quite knowing how to finish.

"Sit, Caltrel," he invited quietly, voice raw without the growl of the filter.

I sank back down to my seat obediently.

"Satisfied?"

Was I? "Yes."

"Good."

I felt my face flush as I stared, trying to memorize his face. His eyes were guarded and did not betray his emotions as mine did. When his eyes narrowed briefly, I looked away. My heart thumped.

"Continue with your questions if you have them," he prompted.

I felt the instinct to decline, to leave the change behind and not think about it. But his presence was compelling, like a drug, and I found myself wanting to hear more of his voice. For a moment, I grasped for another question, not out of curiosity, but out of need. I bit my lip as I chose my wording, and I noticed the way his eyes caught the subtle movement.

"The Dark Side," I started. "What makes it more powerful than the Light?"

His response was calculated—I saw the lines on his forehead as he thought. "As you've no doubt learned, followers of the Light reject their emotions in favor of 'serenity.' The Dark teaches to embrace feelings and thrive on them. The Force flows strongly through one's emotions."

Not mine, I decided. I pushed away the thought. "Why would the Jedi choose a weaker Side?" I asked.

Kylo Ren shrugged minutely. "It is their way. They believe that evil lies in the Dark Side. That one may become 'seduced' by the power of it, and become consumed by it rather than wield it. There is no reason to resist the call to the Darkness." He spoke with conviction.

I speculated about why Ren knew so much about the Light Side, a supposedly extinct enemy. Had he been seduced himself? It was a question far too personal for me to ask.

"If you are finished, you may leave," he said, his tone suddenly businesslike. "I sense that you now have the answers you were seeking."

I felt a spike of panic at the thought that I would never get to see his face again. Moving reluctantly, I stood as he did and found myself staring mutely at him again. His power, his youth, his passion—it all commanded respect and compelled fear. He was surreal. I craved any of it—all of it.

"Will—" I tilted my chin back to look at him. Without his mask, his gaze set fire to my veins rather than fear to my heart. "Will we speak again?"

He nodded, his face schooled. "Yes."

I hid a smile as I turned. My heart raced with a different kind of excitement at the thought. I felt intoxicated.

"Be aware, Corporal," Ren added, his usual commander tone appearing. "I expect the same in your line of duty. Being familiar with me should not affect your service to the First Order or to me."

I felt a bit of mild surprise at the request, and turned to face him. His arms were folded behind his back, his shoulders squared, but his gaze lacked the amount of menace that I'd often pictured it had. His face was too young to be tarnished by such bitterness.

My response came easily. "It will be an honor to serve you, Kylo Ren."