Ana stared at the bright light so that she wouldn't be tempted to look down. "What are the odds this will work?"

Hux crossed his legs at the knee. "I believe the doctor already said forty-eight percent."

"Did you tell Kylo I'd be here?"

He raised his eyebrows at her while the medical droid started up the laser. She breathed through her mouth trying to avoid the smell of burning skin and melting metal.

"He knew you had an appointment." Hux folded his hands on his lap. "You're at your appointment, aren't you?"

"He thought it was a checkup, not—" She inhaled sharply through her teeth as something sparked, shocking her.

"You care very much what he thinks, don't you," said Hux in a sharp tone. "Stop talking. I don't know how Ren stands you and your incessant vocalizing."

The experiment was adding robotics to her muscle, combining droid machinery and human soft tissue to rebuild a fully-functional appendage. Ana had heard about robotic replacements for lost limbs, mechanical mods and enhancements, but never a seamless marrying of living and mechanic. It made sense that Kylo wanted to research the idea. After all, by the end, his own grandfather had been mostly machine.

Still, why wouldn't he tell her that this was an option? Why hadn't he mentioned it, watching her agonize by herself for days?

"If this doesn't work," said Hux conversationally, face impassive as another electric shock sent her spine arching off the cot, "we could always amputate and replace the whole thing." He laughed, short and mean. "Would certainly be easier."

The droid worked above her for ages. Her forehead was damp with sweat, the inside of her mouth bleeding from getting caught between her teeth when her jaws clenched. Her arm still felt numb. Her shoulder burned. Her vision blurred, and when it cleared again Hux and the droid were both gone. She lifted her hand to block the light, blinking the world into focus and realizing she had just lifted her bad arm.

It worked.

She flew upright—too fast, it seemed, the world spinning. She clutched at the edges of the cot until everything steadied, and then she waved her hand in front of her face.

"It worked," she breathed, glancing down at her previously-injured shoulder. What she saw made her nauseous, a sour taste on the back of her tongue.

There were thin, spidery white tendrils of scar tissue reaching out from the center of the wound, spiraling over her collarbone and her bicep like tentacles. The wound itself was still red, raw, and angry; skin hadn't healed over it yet despite the bacta she was sure had been slathered on, and she could see the robotics that were operating underneath, fused into muscle and tissue and making a low, steady hum when she moved her arm and fuck, she was going to be sick.

She lurched off the cot. A doctor pulled the curtain that partitioned off the section, muttered something about bedrest and easing into movement, but it was her arm, her arm but not her arm, half hers and half something inhuman and foreign. She thought they would have dressed it, that she wouldn't have to look at it. She thought it would just look normal, that it would look as if nothing had ever happened. Where was Hux? Where was Kylo?

Ana pushed the doctor away and put a shaking hand over her mouth. Get it together, Ana. You knew what the procedure entailed. You have your arm back. Everything is fine. Get it together.

When she had calmed her breathing and been looked over, the doctor cleared her and she walked distantly back to her room. The new quarters Kylo had prepared for her were actually quite comfortable. She had been surprised when he first showed them to her—the bed was spacious and plush, easily wide enough for two people despite the fact that she slept curled into herself out of habit, there was a bookshelf already with half a dozen texts and small armchair, and the 'fresher had a bathtub. A real bathtub.

That was where she headed first, shedding her clothes on the way. She avoided the mirror as she drew her bath, stepping into the water just hot enough to make her suck air through her teeth. As she sank her body in, muscles screaming relief, she froze as the thought passed through her mind wondering if she could electrocute herself.

She started to laugh, keeping her shoulder above water level, and then she started to cry.

There was a pounding noise on her 'fresher door. Ana lifted her head from her knees, staring at her pruned fingers.

"Occupied," she croaked.

"Obviously," came the snarling reply. "I'm merely checking that you haven't drowned yourself."

She jolted upright in the tub, water sloshing. "Kylo?"

"Who else, miserable woman?"

She stumbled out of the tub, slipping on the cold floor, and ripped her towel from where it hung. She wrapped it around herself and allowed the 'fresher door to slide open.

"When I gave you access to your own private 'fresher," Kylo began, his face tight, one arm resting against the doorframe, "that wasn't permission to use all the water on the damn ship." His gaze locked onto her shoulder and darkened. "What have you done?"

"It's fixed," she said weakly. Her hair was dripping onto her rapidly cooling skin, sending shivers through her. "Hux found me. He told me you knew about this procedure, taking the idea of robotic prosthetics and combining them with living tissue. Why did you let me worry about it if you knew I could be fine?"

Kylo's hand curled into a fist and he slammed it against the doorframe, making her jump. "I told you to listen to me!" he shouted. "I told you that I was taking care of it, that everything would be fine, didn't I?"

"I wasn't getting any better, Hux said—"

"Hux," said Kylo with a hiss. "You think so little of me that you would trust the judgement of that conniving, self-serving—"

"He did something nice," Ana countered. Her energy was gone, whole body shaking. The hum of her arm was giving her a headache. "Why are you so angry? Because I'm better and you had nothing to do with it? If you knew about the procedure, why didn't you just tell me?"

"He didn't do it to be nice, he did it to bother me," Kylo spat. "Everything he does has an ulterior motive, you'd be best to remember that before you go trusting him so easily."

"Why didn't you tell me?" She didn't even realize when they started shouting, her hand gripping her towel at her front with white knuckles.

"There was no guarantee it would work," he said, eyes glaring daggers. He was towering over her. "Did Hux tell you the risks if it didn't work?"

"The doctor said it had a forty-eight percent chance of success—"

"Permanent muscle damage," Kylo interrupted. "Irreversible cell death in your arm. Amputation wouldn't get it all. Toxins could have flooded your body, into your shoulder, your heart. There was a fifty-two percent chance you would have died, Anavexi, and you're still going to argue with me that what Hux did was nice?"

She bit her lip. "It...It was still my choice."

"There were other ways. Why couldn't you just listen to me?"

"Maybe because you've killed the only people I cared about and you've been holding me captive and forcing me to help the First Order murder people!"

Kylo snorted and her rage rose. "Oh, please, give the victim card a rest for a while, won't you?"

"Excuse me?"

There was a faint ding signaling someone outside the door. Kylo whirled on it, hand twitching toward the lightsaber on his hip.

"We're busy," he shouted.

"Ah, Ren, good of you to check in on our patient."

The door opened to reveal Hux, as Ana shrieked and tried to close the 'fresher door to hide her state of undress. Ren's hand shot out and stopped it.

"We're not done talking," he said to her, before turning his wrath on Hux. "How did you get the override code for her quarters?"

Something clicked inside Ana's head. "You made an override code for my room?"

"My, she's shrill, isn't she?" Hux grinned. "Such volume for such a tiny thing. How's the arm, darling?"

"You didn't even stay through the procedure?" Kylo growled.

"I'm a busy man, Ren, you of all people should understand. We each have our duties." Hux lifted his chin. "Are you telling me that you would have stayed? What a doting captor you've turned out to be."

"Get. Out."

"I'm glad things seemed to have worked out," said Hux, oozing an air of superiority. "The Supreme Leader will be pleased that I was able to save such a valuable asset." He smirked at Kylo. "You really should have told her about the procedure, Ren. Let the girl make her own decisions." He stepped into the room and some strange impulse had Ana taking a step back. He moved past Kylo and reached out to her injured shoulder. "A man ought to take responsibility if he is to blame, don't you think?"

Kylo's large hand, quick as a flash, clamped down hard on Hux's wrist and yanked it back. "You don't lay a hand on what's mine," he said, low and dangerous.

Hux, despite the obvious threat, was still amicably smiling. "Not the type to share, hm?" His eyes went back to Ana. "Let her dress, won't you, Ren? I'm sure she feels vulnerable enough. I'll take my leave." He gave an exaggerated salute and left the room, and Ana vanished into the 'fresher while Ren was distracted.

"Get out here!" Ren slammed his hands against the door again.

"So you can yell at me some more?"

Ana rested her head against the cool metal, letting the towel drop as she reached for her pieces of clothing. The fogged 'fresher mirror had cleared and she forced herself to look at her reflection. Her eyes were dull, her cheeks flushed with her embarrassment and humiliation. Her hair was getting too long, longer than she liked it, long enough to be a pain. Her fingers gently prodded at the metal bits moving beneath thin artificial skin, dipped into the gaping hole that the medical droid had not covered. Machinery pinched her index finger and she yelped, drawing back.

She pulled on her shirt carefully, smoothing it over her injury, before stepping outside. Kylo was no longer hovering by the door. He had moved to the bed, and was sitting on the edge with his elbows on his knees. He didn't look up when she came in, but still she stayed, wary, by the 'fresher doorway.

Now that she was really looking at him, truly looking, she could see how tattered he looked. His uniform was torn in several places, there were dark stains and flashes of pale skin and bright red. He didn't say a word, but it was clear that he was wounded. Maybe badly, she couldn't tell from here. Cautiously, she stepped forward.

"Those pants are ruined," she said quietly, observing the fabric, destroyed from the knee down. "Get them off. That thigh wound looks bad."

She gathered bacta and gauze and knelt in front of him with a drained sigh. "What happened?"

"Nothing," he snapped. "Just make quick work of it."

"You weren't going to mention it, were you? You would rather let them fester."

"Is this your idea of quick?"

"Does it have something to do with where you went? I thought you were sitting out the raid on Akiva?"

"I wasn't a part of the raid," he snapped. "Drop it."

"How am I supposed to help you if you won't talk?"

"By shutting up and spraying the damned bacta."

Ana scowled and applied bacta to the wounds on his legs. She gnawed at the inside of her cheek as she did, observing his closed eyes and tight breathing. He was obviously in pain. Had he reopened one of the injuries on his back? Aren't we a pair, she thought wryly, and then she stood.

"Don't move," she said, and then she settled behind him on the bed. She pulled off his shirt, and he offered no resistance. Her hands touched his bare shoulders hesitantly and he flinched. "Don't move, I said."

"Your hands are freezing."

She ignored him, doing a thorough investigation of the muscles on his back, like she'd had to do when Thena had popped a ligament in her shoulder. She couldn't find evidence of any added damage, and while the newer scars were still pink, nothing seemed to be reinjured.

"You're tense," she muttered. "It doesn't help that you barely sleep."

She pressed her palms into the muscles of his lower back, and in an instant he had turned and halted her, off the bed and near the door. "That's enough," he said gruffly, an odd gravelly tone to his voice. It was different from his usual grit and she cocked her head slightly in curiosity.

"I'm just doing what you said," she bit out, her frustration rising again.

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine, you're a fucking child," Ana muttered, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "Are we quite done? Mind leaving me the fuck alone?"

"Curb your tone. I have been nothing but considerate—"

"Considerate," she repeated incredulously. "You're really calling yourself considerate."

His back straightened; he looked haughty for a moment. "My care of your injury has been more than amenable, most would have had you disposed—"

"You keep expecting me to be grateful when you don't kill me." She was on her feet, her finger jabbing into his chest. "You're just a bunch of hot air, aren't you? Empty words, all of it. You want me to hate you, be frightened of you, but when was the last time you actually hurt me, Ren? You want me to be indebted to you for not killing me, well, go ahead then." She met his harsh, dark eyes. "I won't bow and kiss your fucking boots for allowing me to exist."

"You're incorrigible," he spat, fury blowing his pupils wide.

"That's the fanciest word I've ever heard you say," she said in mock surprise. "Congratulations."

"Insolent bitch." His hand closed around her throat.

"Do it," she dared. "I'm surprised you held yourself back for so long."

"Why do you insist on antagonizing me?" he demanded. He reversed their positions, shoved her back against the metal wall, knocking the breath from her lungs. "Do you enjoy it when I hurt you? Shall I do it more often?"

"You're sick."

He bared his teeth, feral and animalistic. "I know you fear me. I know you're afraid of what I can do. Why do you push me?" His breath was hot against her face, his gaze furious. "You don't know what kind of danger you're provoking."

His body was pressed against her—he was too warm, too close. She turned her face away from him, and his grip moved from her throat to her chin. He gripped her bruisingly, forcing her to look back at him.

"Not so brave, tough girl? You avoid my eye now?"

He was searching her face desperately, for what she didn't know. His emotions were palpable, obvious in his tortured expression. He was struggling for control against something, and she wondered if he was fighting the urge to finally kill her. Maybe she really had pushed too far. But if I have to stomach another second of feeling insecure about the state of my life...

Nothing could have prepared her for his hand as it trailed down her waist to her hip, applying just enough pressure to hurt, lingering at the bare skin above the waistband of her pants.

"What are you doing?" Her voice was a quiet exhale, stunned by the pain of his thumb and the gentle warmth of his palm as he rested it fully on her skin. His head dropped until his breath was brushing her neck, his face nearly pressed the juncture of her neck and shoulder. His other hand lay against the metal wall—in her peripheral vision she saw him flex and curl his fingers in a shaking struggle even as he touched her so preciously.

"What are you doing?" she repeated. It felt like her brain had short-circuited.

His voice was dark and sent a shiver down her spine when he whispered into the shell of her ear, "You've poked the bear, Ana, and now he's awake."