A/N: A deep bow to thank those for faving/following: welcome aboard! And a special shout-out to those of you who reviewed: so much fun to read your thoughts on the last chapter! :D Please enjoy the next chapter~

Hartmannclan - chapter 28 - Jan. 25: Oh no! Bad chapter for first ripping out your heart and then jumping on it too...I'll warn this chapter to behave better and not destroy your heart...again! haha I fear that Leia's 'I've got a bad feeling about this...' is definitely applicable to chapter 29 though...yikes! Don't bite all of those nails and I hope you'll survive this new chapter ;) Thanks for being such a loyal reviewer!

CHAPTER 29

The shock-collar buzzed and crackled greedily; a halo of serrated energy that hungered for his throat. Ben swallowed with difficulty as he stood before the tribunal that was to judge him—barely enough room between his skin and the device to allow for even that movement. A handful of high-ranking officers looked down on him from throne-like seats on a raised dais. Their elevated position made the charcoal-colored, rigid shapes appear to float on the unmoving sea of white armor. The officers and stormtroopers weren't his only audience, though.

Beyond the rows of troopers, there was a swirling, neck-craning, whispering and jeering crowd: a multitude of industrialists, arms dealers and politicians who added their garish, scintillant colors to the sober hues of the First Order.

"We are here,"—Hux's voice resounded magnificently in the Atrium and he alone had risen from between the officers, making him appear as a formidable, black-clad pillar among the deep gray—"to reach a verdict according to a martial law that serves justice, and justice alone. It will not bow to an Emperor any more than it would to a petty slave. Especially not if that same Emperor has no right to the title. After all, such a claim tends to lose its legitimacy when it is stained by murder..."

The General paused with deliberate care, appreciating the effect with evident relish. Excited mutterings and convincing gasps of shock rippled through the crowd. Some of the officers looming over Ben barely concealed their smug grins—the rim of their caps shading the savage pleasure undoubtedly glinting in their eyes.

"Of course, I would not dare to accuse our new leader had there not been evidence of the fact that he ruthlessly disposed of his predecessor. Evidence that has come to light because your General, at least, has remained vigilant in protecting the First Order—has stayed true to upholding its true ideals of spreading stability throughout the galaxy by means of natural dominance and absolute superiority. Despite our countless victories, may today serve as a reminder that there is one element—above all others—that is absolutely vital to our continued success: loyalty."

Another well-timed silence that was greeted with many a staunch salute and a cluster of spectators raised their drinks in a celebratory toast. The scarlet wine in Lady Varess' crystal glass was reflected by the many chandeliers so that the red light shimmered over her headdress like blood.

Ben had known the trial would be nothing but a performance for the sake of propaganda—for ensuring the crown would be voluntarily gifted to and altruistically received by the First Order's next and proper ruler. He had known it, but he still felt sick at the coup unfolding around him, and all of it played out in his honor too. Nothing more efficient than letting someone else do the dirty work and then reaping the benefits of disclosing the perpetrator when the time was ripe.

He had been too blind to realize he was nothing more than Bantha fodder in the end...

Despite the bitterness that lay sharp as bile on his tongue, a wry grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. He should feel defeated. He should feel that he lost. But he didn't. There was so much to regret, but it wasn't this. He might have been a fool for believing—hoping—he could be saved. That he would be. In the end his own demise was irrelevant when it meant that Hux and all who followed him would prove the bigger fools.

What good was the blood of an Emperor when they should fear their own dissenters hiding among the troops?

Ben let his gaze roam over the many soldiers encircling both him and the tribunal. The officers didn't even seem to really see the stormtroopers, certainly not as individual, living, breathing beings. They were just numbers, after all. Not names. Not even faces.

For a split-second Ben felt the ghost of his own mask and just repressed the instinctive urge to rub a hand over his face—as if to want to make absolutely sure there was no layer of steel between him and the world. The memories of the time there had been one inevitably led back to Snoke—to the tyrannical master who had demanded in a deprecating snarl for him to take it off. In doing so, Snoke had inadvertently helped him to shed his need to imitate that one specter of solace; had perhaps paved the beginning of the path to truly understanding him.

His grandfather...

When Snoke had commanded him to remove his mask—when he had called him a child—Ben had been left broken, vulnerable and wounded. And then she had seen him. Really seen him. Rey had seen Ben Solo in the features he could no longer hide.

He had wanted her to see him.

Ben clenched his fists, barely registering the warning surge that went through the electrocuffs in response as he returned to his earlier thought.

What good was the blood of an Emperor when an Empress was freed because of it?

He felt the cord between them pull taut, starting somewhere in his chest. It was beyond tempting to give in. To follow it all the way to her. To beg the Force to connect them.

To see Rey one more time...

Ben ground his teeth and pushed the longing away, buried her image even deeper inside of him—her sun-freckled nose and amber-flecked, hazel eyes so vivid it physically hurt him.

It would be impossible to go through with this if he kept groping around for her among the stars that separated them. She was lost to him now. There was no point in torturing himself with thinking of all that could have been. Of seeing with painful clarity the morning light hitting her face, her tousled hair fanned out over the pillow next to his; her hands covered in oil stains as she emerged from the crawl space, sonic wrench in her hand, wiping her forehead with the other in relief at having fixed their transport; the smell of a woodfire burning and a cup of warm caf enveloped by her hands as they discussed how to organize their next strike; the sound of their combined laughter as Rey and the little girl chased each other all over the beach—

Stop! Ben pleaded with himself, heart throbbing and tears stinging his eyes. There was no point in clinging to that future. Not when it would soon die with hi—

He almost staggered back as he woke up to the chant he'd been wholly deaf to but which had grown steadily louder and louder.

"Loyalty! Loyalty! Loyalty!"

The word grew even more numerous and intimidating with the added echo of each; the onlookers punching fists in the air so that they seemed to sprout from the rows of identical helmets blocking most from view. The troopers remained as stoic as ever, expressionless and unmoving statues that wouldn't come to life unless ordered to. Or so, at least, they all appeared.

At last, Hux held up a gloved hand to quench the mantra, his sleek uniform still creaseless regardless of the movement. It fit him to disturbing perfection, his skin even paler against his black frame.

"It pleases me that we are so united in our appraisal of the indispensable value of loyalty. And it is due to that unwavering sentiment that we can now prove the treachery of Kylo Ren."

He reached inside the folds of his long coat and Ben felt his own breath hitch as those present held theirs when the General produced Ben's own saber. Hux held it up for all to see, the two Knights stirring ever so slightly as they hovered on the edges of the Tribunal's dais—their masks turning avidly to the dark, cross-shaped hilt.

"It was this weapon, in the hands of Kylo Ren, our Emperor,"—there rose an angry muttering among the crowd at the title—"that killed our exalted Supreme Leader Snoke. The master slain by his own apprentice in sheer lust for power; for a throne taken, not bestowed. And although Kylo Ren may have attempted to steal the condemning memories from the soldiers who saw the wounds only this could have created." Hux clutched the saber even tighter, shaking it emphatically in his fist. "I have managed to retrieve their testimonies nonetheless."

The General flicked a hand at the two Knights, the gesture too subtle to be unmistakable and yet appearing disdainful rather than grateful. "Testimonies that have been relayed to those sitting beside me and verified as true and accurate by our finest minds and equipment at the Security Bureau. So, you see, although ultimately inferior to our methodologies and technological prowess, sorcery and those who practice it can be of use to us. As long as the latter are tamed...or loyal to our cause."

This time Hux inclined his head to both Knights in turn, not in concession but warning. Ben could feel the Force around Yara instantly flare in indignation and Marrek's signature spiked resentfully, but neither moved an inch. The officers seated beside their General did, their chins jutting out haughtily so that they could stare visibly and directly at the two robed figures, their cold eyes glaring triumphantly from beneath their caps.

"The so-called Force user is as cunning as the witchcraft it professes to own. It is in their nature to be disobedient, chaotic, and treacherous," Hux sneered, he didn't even have to point at Ben for every pair of eyes to turn to him—their collective glower making an involuntary shiver crawl up his spine.

"But rest assured. Even legends cannot revive a religion the extinction of which is long overdue. As we crushed Luke Skywalker, we will crush those like him. Their occult powers cannot defeat the First Order—we must not let them. We must scour the galaxy and rid every moon, planet and asteroid of their filth. Only those who are dedicated, like us, to peace and prosperity, will have a place with the First Order. Now. My honorable Knights." Hux slowly lowered the arms he had raised in a grand gesture, stepping down from the dais and addressing the two figures that still hadn't moved. Their hands had tightened on their weapons, the relief of their knuckles like hard ridges against strained leather, and even the General seemed aware of their dangerously roiling energies. But it did not cause his stride to falter, nor prevented him from continuing.

"With your help an infestation will be prevented. And for any stray Jedi or Sith let the First Order be either their cure or their rightful judge. Now that we have captured our false Emperor, I am sure you would be willing to hunt down our runaway Empress before she can spread this disease—"

Ben's rage burst from him, instantly reducing the electrocuffs to a rain of fragments and hissing sparks. Blinded in his raw fury, he threw himself at Hux. He was inches from ramming into him when an excruciating pain shot through him.

Ben hit the floor before he realized what had happened. Body convulsing, he tried in vain to claw at the collar around his neck but it would not budge—his fingers wouldn't even reach it through the ring of hellish electricity that punished every approaching digit with a burning zing.

Ben growled, the pain blurring his vision. Every time he tried to struggle to his feet it increased and brought him down again.

"No!" he shouted, his voice hoarse from the effort it was costing him to hurl it out. "You can't do this! We made a deal!"

Hux stood erect and aloof, looking down at him with his mouth twisted in a scornful smile. A smile that told Ben his sacrifice would mean nothing. A smile that said 'We will bring her to her knees too'.

"You bas—"

The wave of the Force inverted, making Ben double over, his knees and palms slamming on the marble the very next moment. He could barely see his sprawled, contorting fingers as he fought to stay conscious. The collar's energy shrieked in his ears, sending barrage after barrage of pain slamming into him. His breathing came in gasps of exhaustion. The thing all but drained what felt like his life. But what felt infinitely worse was that his control of the Force—already impeded by the Knight's chokehold—scattered like dust on the wind.

Against his better judgement, he reached out for it again, desperately willing it to work so that he could fight back—so he could kill that son of a banth—

"Argh!"

The attempt made him cry out, every fiber in his being squirming in agony. Ben retched; the reflex so violent it felt like he would spit out his organs. His signature, the very thing he had come to rely on as his one constant, was tearing him apart—like a fire ripping the flesh from his bones.

It wasn't there!

Ben couldn't help the instinctive panic that nearly choked him. This couldn't be. The Force. It was there and yet it wasn't. It was like holding onto sand or water with bare hands. He was aware of it, not as acutely as he should be, but he still sensed it. And yet he could not command it. Access it. Guide it and let it guide him. It had stagnated—that river that had always been there no longer flowing freely between him and his surroundings. He was cut off. Paralyzed. He trembled at the realization as if a fever was gnawing through his veins.

Impossible...

"Behold the barbaric nature of our Emperor!" Hux bellowed to be heard above the clamor of jeering and insults, he paced back and forth in front of Ben like one possessed. "If any of you still doubted his guilt: behold!"

There was an answering roar of indignation and agreement. The cordon of troopers had closed ranks to keep the crowd back, their blasters slapping against their armor as they pressed them against their chests.

"It is time we brought this monster to justice. I call for a vote." As fanatically as he had spoken but a heartbeat before, Hux's voice was now measured and his gaze composed—the restrained cruelty making Ben fear the man for the first time in his life.

He swept out of sight, long coat billowing like a cape around his heels, his boots marching to the applause that rose from the crowd. The thundering sound seemed to mock the democratic ritual when martial law was hardly that: all votes had been cast a long time ago and by few, not many.

A wave of nausea crashed into him as Ben tried to stir, but his pain-riddled, depleted body wouldn't obey. He was only vaguely aware of the feral chorus of 'Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!' as the Atrium started spinning around him.

As the first officer stood to cast her vote, Ben suddenly became aware of the hand around his arm—of the fingers practically digging in his muscles to keep him on his knees.

"Resist," someone whispered hurriedly. "Resist and fall."

It took him a second or two longer to realize they were instructions. He blinked to clear his vision a little, then sucked in a breath and trusted fate to either reward or punish him for doing what he was told.

He made a show of trying to wrestle himself free. The hand around his arm increased its hold, squeezing it like a snake. Then he felt the barrel of a blaster against the back of his neck and he pretended to buckle under its pressure.

"She's waking," that same voice reported, now sounding a lot closer as the person speaking feigned to push him further down. There was something familiar about the voice, scrambled as it was through a trooper's mask, but Ben didn't make the connection until he chanced a glance over his shoulder. Would it normally have been her unique signature, now he identified her by the number etched on her collar. It felt inexplicably wrong, unnatural, that he couldn't rely on the Force in his current, weakened state. But that didn't mean he didn't recognize the opportunity for what it was.

"She's waking," the stormtrooper said again under the cover of the loud cheers that greeted every vote—her words inaudible except to him.

"Ika?" he queried.

"Yes. Not a moment too soon," the trooper confirmed, adding nervously, "They're rounding us up. They don't care if they arrest a few loyal troopers too as long as they've got more of us in the end."

Ben ground a curse between his teeth, it was hard not to feel that all the stars had abandoned them. "Get out of here," he told her in a low hiss. "Take Ika and leave."

"There's nowhere to go," she whispered back, sounding close to fearful now. "The First Order's influence reaches far. Even if we got out and bide our time, they have a long memory when it comes to defectors."

Ben was silent, allowing himself a moment to process what she was saying. He could tell by the increasing volume of the storm of noise around them that they were getting closer and closer to a verdict.

"Are there other troopers who support your cause aboard the Dominance?"

The fingers around his arms slacking for a fraction of a second told him she was surprised by the question. Then she nodded cautiously and stammered, "Y-Yes. Yes, there are. We're everywhere. It's just hard to see us. We tend to blend in."

At the sarcastic tap against her helmet Ben almost grinned, the corners of his mouth curving upward before he cringed when even that subtle movement cost him effort and pain.

"You could use that to your advantage. See if they still keep those Chandrillan protesters aboard."

She didn't seem to immediately understand his meaning. There was another loud applause that followed what must be one of the last votes, before she spoke again, "They'll fight for us?"

"With you," Ben amended, experiencing no short amount of disbelief at his own suggestion—at the clarity that finally allowed him to see beyond plastoid armor and the jaded, worn-down people fighting for this world. His people. His world.

"Don't wait too long. Until they've rooted you all out. Resist and you might find yourself more allies than you thought possible." His own voice sounded almost foreign in his ears and he wasn't sure if he was talking about himself, or if he even meant what he had said—believed in it. He felt detached. No longer a part of any of it. He had made his gamble and he had lost. He did feel like he had lost now, and the sensation was overwhelming to such a degree it actually numbed instead of agitated him.

At least Rey could be there to win. Rey had to live—

Ben wasn't sure if his thoughts of her triggered the gentle, familiar tug at his heart, or if he simply yearned so much to feel her presence that his mind conjured it. He tried but failed to scramble to his feet, instead lifting his chin to look up into Hux's piercing, ice-blue eyes. And between them stood Rey, her back turned towards him—facing a tribunal she couldn't see but which had condemned her just as it would soon seal his own fate.

He knew the exact moment when she felt his presence by the way her shoulders tensed and her form froze. Something fell from her hands, her fingers grasping air. Then she swiveled around, black robes swaying around her ankles and her mouth opening as a gasp he couldn't hear trapped her breath in her throat.

"Kylo Ren," Hux's voice resounded through the atrium now reigned by a deadly silence.

Rey's shape wavered, flickering like a hologram breaking up during a failing transmission, her edges fading away one heartbeat, clear as cut glass the next.

"For your crimes against the First Order—for the treason you committed..."

The light in her eyes shattered as they gleaned the sentence she could not possibly hear in his.

Then Rey dissolved among the boisterous shouts—her presence wrested from his faltering grasp so forcibly he unbalanced and crashed to his knees.