Starkiller Science Chapter 35: That's a Promise, a star wars fanfic

Starkiller Science: Chapter 35: That's a Promise

Summary: Journeys end as you figure out what to do with the broken pieces of your life now that the Starkiller Base has been destroyed and the First Order is in complete chaos. But just as journeys come to an end, so too do they begin.

Kylo Ren wasn't entirely sure what he felt upon first waking; all that he was certain of was the pain. A lot of pain. An excruciating pain reverberated through his abdomen from the bowcaster blast that made his left leg feel numb and tingly. Then it continued through his side so that even pulling the slightest breath would yank at the newly formed scabs in sharp stabs. Moving further up his body was the burn against his right shoulder that had sliced through tendons and torn at the rotator cuff. He tried to wiggle his fingers but felt nothing.

But all of this paled in comparison to the pain of the burn across his face. Whatever salve that had been used was only increasing the burning sensation as it attempted to seal the wound shut. He could smell it—burnt flesh, ammonia, sterile cotton, nauseatingly sweet healing salves, antiseptic ointments. It made his stomach do a flip as he lied on his back.

He tried to open his mouth, tried to open his eyes. All that he could see was the light of a medical lamp poking through a mesh of gauze, hindering his vision. But he could see through other means. There was always the Force.

General Hux was directly to his right, foot tapping annoyingly against the floor and fingers moving on his datapad. Kylo could hear each tap—could make out which letters that Hux was hitting in his current transmission. Even from a few feet away, Kylo could hear Hux's heart beat faster and faster. He was nervous. Angry. Which made sense, considering what all had happened aboard the Starkiller Base.

Granted, Kylo remembered little. After he had fallen into the snow, mind slipping in and out of consciousness, the memories mostly ended. He had remembered very briefly speaking with you. Had remembered wanting to give up, wanting to fall completely cold in the snow and never think nor speak nor move again. He had remembered shoving a metaphorical knife through the Bond, which even at this moment and in all of his pain, he still kept shut. And somewhere in the mess of emotionally destroying the only person he truly loved and the entire relationship that had been keeping him afloat, there came Hux—with a fucking jet pack. Hux kept snapping toward Kylo as he dragged his sorry arse out of the snow and onto the Finalizer. From there, it had all been darkness.

Kylo tried to move his fingers again, wincing at how the muscles would spasm with each attempt. His entire right arm felt destroyed, but surely it wasn't. Surely it would work again. It had to. He wouldn't become helpless from a single burn through his shoulder, would he?

He moved again, this time allowing his fingers to wiggle into the blanket that covered him. Each finger pulled at the soft knit stitches, and he traced along the pattern, remembering the familiar feel of the wool. Of all the things to follow him to this miserable place, how had your blanket made it? It was both a blessing and a knife to the heart all at once.

In the midst of Kylo's wincing, Hux looked over and set his datapad aside.

"Finally, you rejoin the world of the living. Though whether or not that will be of any benefit to you remains to be decided. You are without a doubt the most idiotic person that I have ever met. Quite frankly, if it had not been for Snoke's orders, I would have let you freeze to death, but here we are."

Kylo groaned through Hux's continuing scolding, barely listening. He thought about the Bond, thought about how he had cut it so severely that he wasn't even sure if either of you could survive it, and he pulled in a strangled breath. Tears leaked from his closed eyes, pressing against the gauze in dark patches, and Hux only scolded him further. Scolded him for his feelings, for choosing personal vendettas over Snoke's orders, for basically being responsible for this entire catastrophe.

"I should be dead," Kylo finally spoke, his voice low and hoarse.

"That isn't for you to decide," Hux responded.

Kylo tried to shake his head in disagreement but only gasped as the ligaments further tore in his right shoulder. "I've severed everything... everyone from me. Just let me die."

Hux stood up from his seat and started to walk out of the room, fingers balling into fists as he moved. "What a pathetic excuse for a knight," Hux spat. And then the lights of the room fell dark, and Kylo Ren was left completely and devastatingly alone.

Staring out of a triangular viewport from within a darkened hallway, you watched as bits of space debris flew on by. Distant stars and nebulae formed twisting, colourful shapes, like smoke from a fire. All of those stars and planets were before you, all so far away, so meaningless in this moment. How long now had you been staring at them? An hour? It was difficult to tell as you sipped on some water with Talia sitting to your left, slowly picking at her dinner.

Neither of you were all that hungry. Talia had spent most of the past couple days crying and shoving food around a plate with her fork, never actually taking a bite. Every now and then, her fingers leapt to her comm connected to her belt, thinking that she had heard something. But she never did. Not really. It was still as silent as it had been on the Starkiller Base. At some point, Talia had to accept that she wasn't going to be able to contact Hux, but she was a stubborn thing. She wouldn't give up easily nor soon.

There had been no word from either Hux nor Kylo since the Base had exploded. They were just... gone. No comms, no transmissions to the temporary headquarters at Crescent Base, no word sent to Phasma to tell her what to do as they disappeared. They had simply left with no information about their whereabouts nor health. For all you knew, Kylo really could be dead, though you still refused to believe that. There were always other explanations for what happened to the Bond. Granted, you weren't quite sure what those explanations were, but they had to exist.

You hadn't spent as much time crying as you thought you would. Talia had cried all of the tears in your stead. For the most part, you were just angry. A little numb. A little too shocked at the series of events that had unfolded in such a short time to be able to fully process much of anything else. Your mind kept going back to the Bond, which stood completely blank at the back of your mind. It was like a tunnel that should have been full of moving cruisers, and instead it was empty, dark, lifeless. No matter how many times you spoke into it, your words seemed to go nowhere. Water through a sieve, dripping into the ground rather than ever meeting with a river. It was so useless.

You felt alone. Very, very alone, even when surrounded by people. Talia must have felt something similar, because she stuck to you like glue over the past few days, constantly lamenting as you listened silently beside her. You listened to all of her problems that sprung in a never-ending flow from her lips—problems that were honestly so similar to yours and yet far, far away. Something about sitting beside her and listening was helpful. It allowed you to ignore your own miseries as her voice become white noise.

In Talia's defence, she had just as much as you to figure out at the moment. Honestly, she had no idea where to go or what steps to take; she had, in the span of a single day, lost everything. Hux was gone. Her research and years upon years of data were blown up along with the Starkiller Base. The dementia patients that she had started to study were mostly dead from smoke inhalation. The specimens in her office—all those floating brains and frozen microscopy slices—were destroyed and completely irreplaceable. All of it. Gone. And with the First Order now at full scale war, there was no need for her. No need for either of you, really. All funds were immediately being put toward the war expense, and everyone else was being placed in whatever other job they could do. For the researchers with absolutely no military training, this meant that you were useless.

"I'm out of the job... Nothing left," Talia sighed as she swished around a drink and took a sip. "No meaning. Shit, I don't know what in the world I'm gonna do."

You shrugged, your eyes still watching dust of space pass by and a comet flash in the distance. "Survive, I suppose. Just try and keep living until we can figure everything out."

Talia leaned back so that her feet were propped on the sill of the viewport and back flat on the floor. Her mahogany hair was messy and fell around her head and shoulders like a massive halo. "All those brains... Poof!" She lifted her hand into the air, making a little explosion sound as her hand mimicked a bomb going off. "All our files and analyses and reports. Poof! Poof!"

"We'll rebuild." You weren't entirely sure how, but things could really only improve from here.

Talia groaned and rolled her eyes. "Really? Really? I can't see that. Maybe you have some kind of plan for what you'll do next, but me? No. I don't know. I just don't know."

You nodded, not wanting to respond. She was right; you had started to build a plan for what to do next. From the first moment that you had awoken on board, you had been devising it, but it wasn't ready to leave your head and go into fruition. Nothing was firm yet, and you didn't want to give away most of the plan to just anybody. Not when everything in the First Order balanced on the tip of a knife.

And holding that whole damned knife was Captain Phasma, who had been up to her neck in First Order bullshit since the moment the Base had exploded. With no contact at all from the general, she had to take matters into her own hands. Suddenly, she was the highest ranked officer in the entire First Order and was trying to maintain some resemblance of calm as problem after problem arose on the Outer Territory's decrepit Crescent Base. The financial losses had been devastating, loss of personnel and equipment uncountable, and general order and command completely lost as power vacuums left captains fighting one another for better positions. If it hadn't been for the support of Amena, who quickly picked up some of the necessary duties on board, Phasma would have never made it.

Even after a few days on Crescent Base, you were shocked by just how many people were no longer alive. Thousands of personnel and Storm Troopers were estimated to have perished upon the Starkiller Base, and it struck you now just how many familiar faces had disappeared. People you had seen every day for nearly a year had vanished like a puff of smoke. Their lives were so fragile, yet so many of them were gone that it was difficult to properly mourn. One loss was difficult enough to carry as you thought about Kylo—wherever it was that he happened to be. But thousands of deaths all at once? It was impossible to even process.

One other familiar person had made it on board with you. Mickella, the nervous, blonde researcher, could be seen occasionally lurking around the halls. Like Talia and yourself, she didn't have much of a purpose here. You would see her pass by, head down and hidden behind her glasses and long hair. She stared at her feet as she walked, never saying a word, never moving out of the way when Troopers ran past. They would bump into her and knock her against the wall, but she didn't seem to care all that much. Talia had said that Mickella was missing the other researcher, Byrt, who had not been as lucky. Apparently he had gone back for a family member on the Base and hadn't made it to a ship, and while neither Talia nor you really cared that much for him, Mickella did, and she carried the burden of mourning for all of you.

Plenty of others hadn't made it to the new base—the Hermeyers who had worked in the Starkiller Base's medical wing and memory care unit. Deirdre O'Donovan. Captain Harpin Maltolpol. Plenty of Troopers. Perhaps they were still alive and simply unaccounted for, but you rather doubted it.

Talia was still babbling as you thought through the week's events and Kylo's actions. It still tore you up to think about what he had done. Stars, you loved him, but you hated that sabre and all the Darkness within him. Hated how he had listened to Snoke and killed his own father rather than running away when he had had the chance. Hated that he could be so morally conflicted when an obvious answer waited for him. Hated that his voice could be screaming one moment and then whispering into your ear the next as he told you with all honesty just how much that he adored you. You hated the ghostly memory of his fingers on your skin. How tender they could be. How loving, gentle. How were they the same fingers that had held onto a lightsabre which killed so many?

And why? Why did your heart hurt so much every time that you thought of him? Why did you love him so damn much? Why did your mind dance around with thoughts of rescuing him, of holding him once more in a place where no one could see you—where no one could ever try to take him away or tempt him again?

"Sorry if I appear unresponsive," you mentioned after neither you nor Talia had spoken in a while. "I'm still processing the fact that my heart loves someone who would murder his own father just to gain power and would also allow someone else to commit horrendous war crimes right in front of him. Honestly, I don't know how you can do it. How you can pine over Hux after what he's done. You know how many people he killed, so how can you forgive him?"

"The same way you probably did."

"I never said that I'd forgiven Kylo."

"Yeah, but you still love him even though he did terrible shit, right? We're not so different."

You sighed, leaning back as well so that both you and Talia were on the floor with feet propped on the viewport's sill. "I guess. I think I'm just infuriated that I'm in this situation in the first place. I feel so responsible for so much death and destruction."

"Why?" Talia asked, though she continued before you could make an answer. "It's not your fault. Hux and Ren would have done the same shit regardless of whether we were there."

"It doesn't remove the guilt."

"Nothing will, probably."

"You're not very hopeful, Talia."

"No reason to be."

And yet... Some tiny, microscopic bit of hope still fluttered through your brain, rested in your chest and collected life with each breath. At first, the hope had been fuelled by your anger. You had thought of Snoke and wanted to strangle him with your bare hands—wanted to kill him the same as you had with Captain Stratoveer. Destroy every hold that he had upon Kylo Ren. And then the anger had cooled into something that gave you strength. It was as though you had taken all of that pain and hurt and fury and learnt to control it, and now it was hardly different from the Force in the way that it wanted to move you forward.

"I've been thinking of something over the past few days..." you began, judging how Talia would react. She didn't say anything for once and let you continue. "Do you remember my cat? Pickles?"

Talia nodded but still kept her eyes on a particularly beautiful nebula, it's green light reflecting against her face in strange shadows.

"Well, I sent him to a friend, and I've thought of going there. Going back to my cat."

"May as well," Talia sighed. "Go back to something familiar."

"Mhmm."

Talia didn't need to know about Jessika. About Poe. About Pickles being in the stronghold of the Resistance. It wasn't that you didn't think that Talia deserved the information, but she couldn't be trusted. She was simply too liable to reveal secrets to people who would use the information to attack the Resistance.

"I don't really want you to leave, to be honest, but I get it. I really do. Your cat probably misses you. When do you think you'd go?"

You shrugged and pulled in a hiss. Your right shoulder was still so sore, and the bruising went all the way up your neck and across your face in patches of purple and brown. "Soon, probably. As soon as I can figure out how to leave."

Talia reached over and gave your hand a squeeze, her fingers like ice against your own. "Good luck. I mean it."

"Thanks, Tal."

"I'll give you my comm number—in case you need me. And it's not like either of us have much, but I'll scrounge around for some supplies."

As much as you had been trying not to cry through all of the conversation, it was this that made the tears start to pour. Your throat closed off completely, but you squeezed Talia's hand in return. She was well aware of the 'thank you' that was being sent her way.

Talia had tried to help gather some supplies for you, but there were slim pickings. All that either of you could scrounge together was a leather purse to hold your stolen blaster, a new comm, random packets of dehydrated food, a metal card for your credits that had been in your pocket when you had escaped the Starkiller Base, and an extra set of clothes that had most likely been the black under uniform of a Storm Trooper. It wasn't much—not by a long shot, but it was better than nothing.

"So, where are you even going?" Talia asked as she walked alongside you to the hangar.

"I can't really tell you the specifics, but I need to make a stop on Eriadu first."

"Never heard of it."

Admittedly, you had only ever heard of the planet once, and that's because you had sent Pickles there with some Storm Troopers to be picked up by Jessika's friend. Even now, you could only remember bits and pieces of the plan. You remembered the market number on the planet and the name of her contact—Samson. And you knew that there was some kind of fountain to meet at, but aside from that, you were basically on your own. Really, it should have been frightening to go to another planet with so little figured out, but your future looked just as blurred if you stayed on board—just as unpredictable and terrifying.

As you stood before a boarding ship of Storm Troopers, leather purse slung over your left shoulder, you breathed a deep sigh. Now or never, it was time to take a leap. Talia sniffled as she gave you a massive hug. "Promise you'll bring me back some specimens, okay? Come back with a cooler full of brains; I have to restart my collection."

You laughed, but it was rather humourless. "I don't make promises, Tal. Promises are for harlequin romance novels and Valentine's Day cards..." You paused in the middle of saying that old line that you had quoted once before so many months ago, but you realised that there actually was a promise within you. It sat on your tongue. The promise was exact. It was meant for only you and one other person.

You swallowed the rest of your words and waved good bye whilst running aboard the ramp of the ship.

"Be careful," Talia warned with a half-hearted smile. A memory popped into your head of her tiny cursive scrawled on a scrap piece of paper that had said the same thing when you had first been flirting with the danger that was Kylo Ren.

You nodded but found yourself smiling back. "No promises."

Six long days. Four different ships. Two planetary systems. One hideous planet that was now beneath your feet.

You were absolutely exhausted by the time that you landed on Eriadu aboard a merchant carrier that you may or may not have bribed passage upon. From there, you had hitched an illegal ride on a cruiser for hire to get to the market in Eriadu City that Jessika had mentioned. Market #67. You had remembered writing down the instructions. Fountain in the courtyard. Hopefully it wouldn't be too difficult to find.

Eriadu was most likely the dirtiest place that you had ever visited in your life. Covered in sand and dust, the entire planet was full of smog from industry that polluted the atmosphere. You kept a scarf over your face, trying to block out the hideous smell, but it did practically nothing to help. The streets of the market were equally as polluted as the air. People walked past piles of rubbish on their way to the market, and there was no reprieve in finding the fountain by the market's courtyard, because it's water ran yellow and brown, its surface slightly foaming with who knew what type of chemicals.

You sat down on a rocky bench beside the fountain, trying to figure out what to do next. You didn't even know what Samson looked like. Didn't know if he would even show up or if Jessika had just managed to get him to show up that once to grab Pickles. Hours passed as you watched the merchants and shoppers—most of whom were veiled against the smog and sun or in Trooper uniform. No one was familiar. No one paid you any attention, though that was a blessing. You didn't want to be noticed. Not now or ever, really.

One day turned to two as you waited, just holding out hope that Samson would show up. You had plenty of credits to stay the night in an inn off the market's courtyard—a perk of having been paid by the First Order for a year's worth of work but never needing to spend any of it on Base. But as the third day crept along, you started to grow more afraid that this wasn't going to work. Had you showed up on a foreign planet with no information only to need to go back to Crescent Base? Had this been a stupid, fever dream that you should have never followed through? Probably. But on the fourth day, you sat by the fountain again, waiting. Just waiting.

Some of the faces had grown familiar by this point. You recognised the same fruit sellers with their beards and turbans—the children on their way to jobs in the market—the women pulling long scarves over their noses as they inspected goods. They gave you the saddest expression as they passed. It was as though they knew you were waiting, but they finally figured that whoever it was you were waiting for was long since gone. You were like a beggar girl, a nuisance, a lost pet. If they could have spoken your language, they would have pitied you.

By this point, you had started to ask people passing by if they were Samson, which most of them either didn't understand or would shake their head as they scurried away from the crazy woman by the fountain. Once again, today had brought no such success.

You groaned and fanned yourself with a thin metal scrap that you had found on the ground the day before. It was so damned hot, and you were getting progressively more disappointed. You envied the people who seemed to know just where they were going in the market.

You watched from behind your make-shift fan as more merchants passed, eyes straight forward on their destination. But one man was walking slower. His dark eyes glanced back and forth as he wandered off the path and ran his fingers through his dark brown, curly hair that was collected in a low ponytail. He wasn't dressed like all of the merchants in their traditional robes, but instead was in a pair of dark trousers and a beat up tank top that showed off his muscular arms. Instead of a long beard, his face was covered in dark stubble. A blaster was securely attached to his belt, and he pulled a comm from a bag, speaking inaudibly as he glanced around.

It wasn't just that he looked different than the rest of the crowd—dressed differently, browner skinned, taller and bulkier. But the way he carried himself set something off within you. Maybe it was gut instinct. Maybe it was the Force that was springing to life within your limbs, but you knew that he was the right person. That man. He was Samson. He had to be.

You leapt from the stone bench, muscles aching and the stitches pulling on your side. Standing may not have been the best idea. You sat back down, but your posture was tall, alert as you waved him down. "Excuse me! But... are you Samson?"

The man stopped in his tracks, eyes getting wide as his head whipped in your direction. He studied you for a moment, trying to figure out whether or not you were a threat. "It depends on who's asking."

"Me. Just me; I'm asking. No one else."

He raised an eyebrow, trying to appear menacing, but something told you that no matter how hard he tried, he would always be rather puppy-like. Big and bulky but handsome and full-hearted—like a toddler trying to be mean but only making everyone around him laugh.

You continued, "I believe you were the one to take a cat to Jessika Pava almost three weeks ago?"

His thick eyebrows were now drawn together in suspicion. "Yeah...?"

"Well, that was Pickles. He's mine."

"Really... And what did he look like?"

You rolled your eyes. "White with grey spots. Bright yellow-green eyes. Probably shit himself on the ride because he's an arse."

Suddenly, the man perked up, mouth turning to an 'o' and eyes getting wide as he realised just who exactly you were. "Wait, you're Jess's roommate! The one that's the doctor, right?"

You nodded. "Think I could convince you to take me to her?"

He cringed, scratching at the back of his head and twisting his fingers into his curly ponytail. "Eh... I don't know if-"

"Please!" you shouted, ignoring the pain to stand up from the fountain and cross over to him.

Samson backed up a few steps, slightly startled by you. His hands were held out before him, not wanting any trouble nor anyone in the market to start paying attention to either of you.

"You don't know what I've gone through! I have no home. No belongings. Nothing. I just want to get back to someone I know and my cat before I go completely insane!"

"Well now, Jess wasn't lying about you having landed yourself in trouble, huh?"

"You have no idea."

He sighed deeply, scuffing the toe of his boot into the dusty ground. "If the general finds out, you never mention my name. I was never here. I never took you to Jess."

"I won't rat you out—especially after having saved Pickles for me. Thank you for that." You crossed your arms, frowning a bit as you thought about your cat. "Speaking of which... do you know how he's doing?"

"Catching mice the size of opossums, last I heard—maybe three, four days ago from Jess? She's been busy with all of the battles against the First Order, so I haven't commed her as often as I should. You know, she was there when the Resistance destroyed the Starkiller Base; she's turned into something of a hero under Commander Dameron's guidance. We're all pretty proud of her. She's a good kid."

"You know Poe?" you asked.

Samson nodded. "Who doesn't know him?" He gave a hearty smile and a shrug but then clasped you on the shoulder, making you gasp as his hand hit upon the deep tissue bruise that matched Kylo Ren's burns. His hand leapt back to his side with a grimace. "Eh, sorry there."

"It's fine," you lied. "I'm just a little worse for wear."

"Yeah, I could tell." Samson motioned toward your bruised face and then to your left arm where a bright pink scar had formed from the recently removed stitches. It would seem that you were going to have a permanent reminder of Stratoveer's attack from that full month before. "Anyway... come on. I've got my cruiser parked in a lot about ten minutes' walk from here."

"You'll really take me?!"

Samson laughed, this time giving you a pat on the centre of your back as you both started to walk away from the dirty fountain. "Well, I was waiting around for a shipment of, uh, questionable materials, but my guy didn't show up on time. And besides, a friend of Jess's is a friend of mine. So, uh, you got any stuff to take to the cruiser?" He looked around, noting that all you had was a simple purse over your shoulder.

You shook your head. "No. I meant it; I have nothing."

"Oh, well, uh, so you do." Samson didn't press the issue and kept walking, keeping his hand at your back the entire way as though he was now your personal body guard.

"Thank you," you whispered after a little bit, feeling your throat start to close up like it had with Talia. No crying, you told yourself. You had done enough of that lately. "Thank you."

The lush, green planet of D'Qar came into sight through the cruiser's wind shield, and you breathed a sigh of relief. Pangs of nostalgia rolled through you at seeing so much life. How long now had it been since you had last seen trees? Green trees? Grass and plants and birds and no sight of snow or sand or outer space? It had nearly been a year, and my God, you couldn't wait to just breathe and feel the sunlight on your skin.

Samson landed on a clearing of grass and gravel alongside a few other old ships and beat up cruisers, and then the hatch lifted to bring in fresh, cool air. Eyes closed, you took a deep breath. The air was sweet, full of the smell of wet grass. You felt the breeze, gently pushing your hair behind you. Lifting your face to the sky, you finally felt the warmth of the sun prickling against your skin like the touch of a lover. Like his touch. Kylo's...

You opened your eyes, the blue sky slightly too bright. What was he seeing at this moment? A similar sky? The darkness of space? Nothing at all?

Samson jumped from the cockpit and helped you down to the gravel below.

"It's a bit of a walk to the base. The general doesn't like civilians parking close. Safety, you know?"

You nodded. General Organa left no stone unturned in safety. Smart of her. But that wasn't surprising. She had a smart son as well. Or, well, sometimes he was smart. Lately, he hadn't been proving himself so well.

Samson guided you along, chatting about the base and D'Qar's climate in this region and the general's rules and all of the various people he knew—which were a lot of people. He seemed to know everyone. You weren't listening that closely, instead taking time out to look around, gather your bearings. Butterflies were crashing around in your stomach as you contemplated what you were about to do—about to show up uninvited, unannounced to the Resistance's base after having spent nearly a year with the enemy. The fear was reasonable, or so you kept reminding yourself. There was no way to know how you would be treated if anyone found out your exact circumstances. Hell, they could have you arrested, and you wouldn't have blamed them. But still, you held out the smallest bit of hope that this plan of yours wouldn't turn out to be a complete loss. Maybe, just maybe, it would bring about the help you needed. Help to set things right. Help to pull Kylo away from Snoke and back into your arms where he belonged.

Because you believed he was alive. He had to be. You refused to accept anything else. Kylo was alive and most likely still under Snoke's control, and by damn, you weren't going to settle for that any more. No more acquiescing to fear and manipulation. No more accepting that Kylo will make his own decisions into Darkness. You were mad. You were in love. You were determined.

You were powerful.

The two of you had been walking along a dirt path for upwards of twenty minutes when the scenery changed. For starters, the path became easier to travel as it switched from packed dirt to gravel, and the trees had now been cleared away in some areas to make way for duracrete runways. Buildings were popping up along the widening path—temporary canvas huts, bunkers, old freight boxes transformed into military space. It was a hodge-podge base, using anything the Resistance could salvage or get their hands on in order to make it work. People in military uniform or orange and white jumpsuits were moving about, busy with the day's tasks.

Several of their X-wings were parked out in the sun and receiving maintenance after the recent battles, and the butterflies in your stomach turned to sickness. Those X-wings should have been a sign of good things—of good people fighting against the evils of the First Order—but you could only think of how many people had been killed on the Starkiller Base. So many. Thousands upon thousands.

You slowed down, feeling nauseous and panicked. Samson stopped walking and pulled you to the side of the path, patting you on the back. "You okay, kid?"

Kid... He couldn't have been more than five years older than you, but you brushed off the patronisation; he hadn't meant it menacingly. You pulled in deep breaths to quell the panic and rested your palms on your knees as you stared down at the gravel.

"I don't know," you answered after sucking in more breaths. "I feel like I fucked up."

He shrugged. "Maybe you did, but it's too late now. You're here." Samson fumbled through a leather bag attached to his belt and pulled out his comm.

"What are you doing?" you hissed.

"Calm down, there. I'm just gonna talk to Jess. Tell her she has a guest." He kept patting at your back the entire time that he spoke over the comm. "Yeah, Jess, it's Samson... You got a minute? Nah... Nah, nothing like that. Hey, I've got someone who wants to meet with you... NO, IT IS NOT A SET UP... Oh, come on. That was one time... Mhmm?... Okay, sounds good. We'll meet you there." He stuffed the comm back into his bag and helped lift you back to a full stand. "You ready?"

"Sure," you lied, still breathing a little too quickly and feeling as though your heart was about to beat out of your ribcage. God, you were nervous to be there. Even with the stolen blaster in your purse, you still felt entirely too vulnerable.

Samson led the way past several busy tarmacs before stopping at a long, sheet-metal building labelled in black paint with 'BARRACKS'. You could already hear Jessika's voice from inside, joking with someone as she walked closer to the door. Samson knocked on the sheet-metal, causing it to warble.

"Hey, Jess! We're here."

"Yeah, I know, I know. I'm coming." Jessika Pava yanked at the oiled canvas that covered the entry to the barrack, already with a spit fire comment on her tongue toward Samson. "You know, I still don't trust that this isn't another date-"

Her face dropped when she saw you, jaw going slack and slanted eyes getting as wide as possible. "Holy..."

All at once, her arms were wrapped around your neck, pulling you into a tight hug against her. "STARS, I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!" She was nearly in tears against you as she squeezed harder and harder, irritating the bruise on your shoulder and neck. "I told Pickles he was an orphan! How in all the galaxies did you get out alive?!"

"A lot of luck," you squeaked out as she rocked you back and forth and even momentarily picked you up off your feet. She had gotten so much stronger since the last time you had seen her in person, but otherwise, she was exactly the same. "And a lot of help from good people."

"Good people?" Jessika leaned back but still kept her hands on your shoulders as she raised an eyebrow. "I'm guessing you don't mean anyone from the Fir-"

You hushed her, putting your hand over her mouth as she frowned. "We'll discuss it in private, but yes. I do mean them."

Jessika gave a slow nod, not completely convinced that anyone from the First Order would be capable of kindness or moral integrity. But she led you inside of the bunker with Samson following behind. You walked past a few rooms, each with a bunk bed, desk, and dresser for two people. Jessika led you into her own bunker, which you had seen in the background when you had spoken with her over the vidscreen. She plopped into the seat of the desk chair, swivelling back and forth as you took a seat on the edge of the lower bunk and Samson sat himself right on the concrete floor beside the desk.

Jessika's eyes flickered over to Samson with a little frown, but then she directed back to you. "Just how private are you wanting this to be?" She glanced at Samson once again.

"He can stay if he promises not to judge me."

Samson held up his hands and grinned. "No judgement. But I am curious what kind of adventures a doctor could get into that would leave her in this kind of situation."

"So..." Jess began, leaning back into her chair and staring up at the low ceiling. "You signed a contract with the First Order..."

Samson's eyes got wide, but he forced his mouth shut.

"Yes. It was supposed to be for a year as a research scientist. They needed an epidemiologist, and I accepted the position-" Suddenly, your voice fell into a gasp as a fat, white and grey cat meandered into the room. "PICKLES!"

Alert and slightly surprised by your presence, Pickles let out a chirp of a meow and leapt into your lap, purring at full volume as he shoved his little head into your hand. You wrapped him in your arms, falling back on the bunk bed as you squeezed him. "Pic, I've missed you so much!"

He purred and chirped and purred some more as you cuddled him, crying into his fluffy fur that smelled of grass and wet earth.

"He's missed you," Jessika commented from her seat. "Cuddling with me at night must not be doing the trick."

You nodded your head, sniffling as you smiled. "Well, I'm his mum." Something fluttered within you as you said that word. Mum. It reminded you that, somewhere nearby, was Kylo Ren's own mother—General Leia Organa. You stiffened, slowly sitting up as your face got serious.

Jessika's foot was tapping against the concrete floor. "So... I'm guessing that things went downhill with the First Order. You know, considering that they don't have a base any more?"

"Well, they do have a base, but their main base—Starkiller—it's gone. A lot is gone."

"Yeah, I know. I was there. Stars, I seriously thought I'd killed you, though."

You shrugged with arms still wrapped around Pickles. "I escaped, but... I can't really say that I had wanted to at the time. I left someone behind, and I'm still torn up inside about it."

Jessika frowned. "Sorry to hear about that. I guess even the death of someone in the First Order can be tough."

"I didn't say they were dead," you interjected. Or at least you were still currently assuming that Kylo wasn't dead. "But... Listen, it's just really difficult to explain, and I'm not sure how much I should reveal."

"What? It's not like you could have gotten that deep into the First Order since you weren't military. What secrets would you have?" Jessika almost scoffed at this but grew serious again once she looked at your face. You were sweating bullets and looked like you would vomit. "You... didn't get deep into the First Order, did you? Stars, what am I going to do with you?"

"I don't know," you sighed. "But I was in deep."

"How deep? Are we talking 'friendly basis' with lieutenants? Had a conversation at lunch with a captain? Saw that ginger-ass general in the hallways?"

"That ginger-arse general happens to be General Hux, with whom I'm... extremely angry."

"Yeah, join the club. We all saw what he did with the Starkiller Base's weapon. But you don't know him, do you?"

Your face twitched as you stared down at Pickles and gave a slight nod.

"Stars," Jessika hissed. "Next, you're going to tell me you met that bastard Kylo Ren-"

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I met Kylo Ren. And speaking of which, there's something I need to do. I didn't just come here to collect Pickles or see you—not that I don't just love getting laid into by your sass-"

"I take that as a compliment."

"I know." You sighed and stood up, placing Pickles onto the bed. "But I also came here because there's someone I need to speak with, and it's important. The general—Leia Organa. I need to speak with her. Immediately."

Jessika laughed sarcastically and stood up, moving toward the open doorway as Samson stayed perched beside her desk—wide eyed and imagining what kind of trouble he was about to be in for having brought you to D'Qar. "Listen," Jessika scoffed. "You can't just meet up with General Organa like you know her."

You stepped toward the door, taking a deep breath as you tried to look as opposing as possible. "Jess... I'm serious. Where can I find her?"

She rolled her eyes. "Her command centre is just a little further down this row of barracks, but you are not going to see her. She's way too busy. And why would you need to talk to her anyway? Unless you're about to divulge secret First Order business—and even in that case, you would need to have it okayed with her advisers to even speak with her."

You groaned and pushed past Jessika, walking back into the barracks hallway and then outside. Fuck this. You'd find Leia yourself if you had to.

"Wait, now, hold on!" Jessika reached for your arm, but you flinched out of the way and then broke into a run down the gravel path. She groaned with Samson now behind her.

"I shouldn't have brought her..." he sighed. "My apologies."

"Don't worry about it, Sam. She's just being a child like all the other First Order jerks."

Breaking into a steady run, Jessika then followed behind, sure of her ability to catch up to you eventually. She had always been a faster sprinter than you, after all. But you were determined with your head start, and not even the pull of stitches against your abdomen was going to stop you at this moment.

You were panting as you turned past several barracks and headed toward a sign pointing in the direction of the command centre and generals' quarters. Jessika was still yelling behind you when you nearly toppled over a soldier who was walking out of a medical tent. With a little yelp, you twisted around the man and then gasped when you realised just who it was. Standing before you was a young soldier whom you had once known as a Storm Trooper.

"You!" you shouted whilst turning around and pausing for just a moment. "FN-2187! I know you!"

He seemed slightly shocked but stood his ground. His dark eyes traced you up and down, trying to figure out if you were a figment of his imagination or not. "It's Finn, actually."

"Finn. Finn, okay." You nodded. That was a name that you could actually remember. You glanced back down the path and could see Jessika getting ever closer, and your feet wanted to flee but heart said to stay. To apologise. To ask him how he got there. To just make sense of him being alive.

He looked so suspicious of you, frowning as you tried to pass by. He glanced over at Jessika who was now skidding to a stop beside him. He raised an eyebrow as though questioning if she knew what she was doing by allowing you to be on the Resistance base.

You caught his line of sight and saw the worry. "I don't blame you for not trusting me," you mentioned. "I wouldn't trust me, either. But you were my guardian angel. I haven't forgotten that."

He blushed in spite of himself, just hardly visible against his dark skin. He hadn't forgotten, either. "Go on," he sighed, letting you pass as Jessika sputtered out in frustration beside him.

You gave Finn a sad, thankful smile and then ran past with Jessika yapping at your heels like a toy dog.

"I mean it; you can't just barge in to the general's quarters and demand to talk to her!" Jessika hissed from behind you.

"No, that's exactly what I'm doing."

Jessika groaned and grabbed at your wrist, but you twisted from her grasp and started running like hell through an open doorway and down the hall. It wasn't as though you knew where you were going on the Resistance Base, but you had other methods of finding what you wanted. Clearing your mind as much as possible, you let go of any distractions. You weren't entirely sure how Kylo had managed to meditate and remove his thoughts, but you had a fairly good idea and tried to do the same. You tried to feel where General Organa would be—tried to trust whatever instincts were still left inside of you.

Where are you?

You turned down another hall, not knowing if you had actually made a conscious decision on the matter, but so long as it took you further from Jessika, then it would give you time. And that's really what you needed by this point. Time to find your bearings. Time to find General Leia Organa. Time to understand just what in the hell had happened to your life.

Turning again, you ran into a dead end full of closed doors, and Jessika's light footsteps weren't far behind. She rounded the corner, face flushed and long black hair escaping its ponytail.

"I told you-" She started to yell out, but her lips stopped halfway as she stared in surprise just over your shoulder.

Slightly confused, you looked behind you to see a woman exiting one of the doors, her brown and grey hair plaited in a crown around her head and face heavy with stress. You had seen her face before. God, you had seen it so many times, but never with your own eyes. It had always been in Kylo's dreams—in memories that haunted through the depths of his mind. There was no doubting who she was, even if she was older now than in those memories.

She was General Leia Organa. Kylo Ren's mother.

Jessika's posture stiffened as she gave a solute. "General."

Leia nodded toward Jessika but then looked at you. "A new face."

"You don't know me," you said, testing the words in your mouth. "But you're about to."

"I'm so sorry!" Jessika interrupted as she tried to pull you back down the hall, but you ripped your wrist from her once again, determined to stand your ground.

Leia didn't look the most amused but waited with her hands on her hips. "And how can I help a civilian on my base?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat and tried to stand tall and collect yourself. "It's about..." Shit, how in the hell were you going to explain this? "It's about Kylo Ren."

The seriousness on Leia's face instantly fell to a look of pained concern, and she took a small step forward. Her eyebrows narrowed as she studied your face, and you knew then that she was using the Force to probe your intentions. There was no mistaking it.

"You know him?" she asked.

You nodded. "I know him better than anyone else right now. And I know that he's in danger. And..." Your throat was constricting as you spoke. "...and I can't reach him, and God, it hurts so bad because I know that he needs me!" Tears were pooling in your eyes and rolling down your cheeks, and you couldn't control your voice at all. It hiccuped in small bursts, warping the volume of your speech as sobs broke free. "He's messed up. He's trapped by Snoke, and damn it, he's so determined to fall into the Darkness, but there's so much damned Light in him! And he won't listen! He's... God, I don't even know! He's torn up inside, and I feel it all!"

Jessika was silent behind you, but you could hear her take a few steps back as you fell down to your knees in the hallway, face pressed into your hands.

"Kylo's in so much danger, and I can't save him, but I know I have to! I need help, and I need guidance, and I need someone who's just as invested in him—in Kylo, in Ben. And you were my only hope to figure this all out. To figure out how to shake the Light back into him!"

You sobbed for a few moments more, your back heaving. It felt as though your whole world was crumbling, and yet, a weight had been lifted. Some enormous weight that you hadn't even been aware of was now sliding from your shoulders and sinking beneath your feet, lifting you up. Slowly, you brought yourself back to standing as you wiped at your tears and finally opened your eyes.

You saw Leia before you, her eyes wet and mouth trembling as she reached forward and wrapped her arms around you like a mother, her hand slowly patting at your back.

You sniffled and returned the hug. "Leia, I love him. God, I love him so much, and I can't bear this."

She nodded, her plaited hair tickling against your chin. She was so tiny. It was amazing to think that Kylo could be so tall in comparison. "I know," she said.

Leia was your life raft in that moment as you held onto her. "I don't... I don't know how, but I'm going to bring him back. I'm going to bring your son back to the Light."

A soft laugh came from Leia as she pulled away and looked up at you with her hands on your upper arms. She was taking you in, looking at you not just as a crying woman before her but the woman that her son loved. The woman who could somehow break through all of his defences and manage to love him—just as Leia had done so many years before with someone equally as hard-headed and rebellious.

"You're right," Leia sighed, and she wiped at her eye and regained her composure. "I didn't know you, but you're right about me knowing you now. I can't claim to know the full extent of what has gone on between you and my son, but... I know that you will do this. You feel it; I feel it." She pressed her hand against your heart for just a moment, and the warmth of her fingers was so incredibly familiar. Even though she was an entirely different person than Kylo Ren, something similar remained. It was that same spirit, that same fire, that same control of the Force that flowed through your own veins as you shared that moment of understanding.

You swallowed, the tears no longer falling down your cheeks as you took in a deep breath and felt your limbs lighten. You were buoyant. Something freed within you, and you reaffirmed your pledge.

"I'll do it. I'll pull him back to the Light if it's the last thing I do." A smile started to pull at your lips, and you closed your eyes, feeling the pledge become something more. "I'm going to bring your son back. That's a promise."

Leia matched your smile and gave your arms a squeeze as she nodded in agreement.

The one promise that you could make was between you and exactly the only other person whom you felt safe making any promise to. And you believed it. You truly, fully believed in this promise as you looked down into Leia's eyes and saw each and every wrinkle—each piece of evidence of how much she had gone through to get to this point and yet still stand strong like an immovable tree. She was a willow, bending but never breaking, and you were the sprout at her feet—ready to become part of her forest.

That promise held in the air. It was almost tangible in its strength. It was pure. It was true. It was real.

Kylo Ren was going to be brought back from the clutches of Snoke and dragged to the Light whether he liked it or not. Of that much, you were completely certain.

A/N: So, this has been an absolutely amazing journey to share with all of you as I wrote my first ever fic. I'm still in shock that I not only wrote this but finished it and managed to meet so many wonderful people along the way. Your guys' encouragement and enthusiasm has truly been a blessing, and I am so thankful to have had an opportunity to write about what I love for such an amazing audience. I can only hope to continue writing more stories for you all now that I kind of know what I'm doing. My next challenge will be The First and Final Armament, which has already started up as an assassin-filled adventure fic, also in second person and involving a love affair with the First Order. After that, I am developing the sequel to Starkiller Science, which is tentatively being called Crescent Base Captives. And after that? Who knows. We'll see where the winds take me.

A note for people reading this on FanFiction . net: I originally posted this fic on my Ao3 and Tumblr accounts and decided to post it on for fun to see what would happen. What I had not expected was for the website to be so user UNfriendly. It's very difficult to post chapters here and communicate with readers, so I think that from here on out, I will stick to posting my fic on Tumblr and Ao3. If you would like to ready my fics there, look for me on tumblr at the url 'starkillerscience' and on Ao3 under the user-name Aisling_in_outer_space. I would love to be able to talk to you guys there!