This is when Kylo's plan ended. Or rather, his lack of a plan became apparent.
He knew he had to get to the Supremacy and find Rey. How he was going to find her, or what he was going to do when he did – that was what he had tried to avoid thinking about for the past few days. Paige had known he was keeping something hidden, well, he had been hiding it from himself too.
He'd been successful for the most part, but now, standing on board the First Order's flagship, he could feel the Dark seeping through the halls like a miasma, swarming up his legs and torso to chill his heart, then further still, drawing out the vision he'd been gifted in the cave on Ahch-To.
Rey, speared on the humming bloody blade in his hand, demanding that he kill her, dragging the lightsaber deeper into her gut as her flesh sizzled.
Kylo shuddered. He didn't want that. The thought made him sick, nauseous.
Or did he? He'd almost done it once, on Starkiller. He'd wanted to do it then – the grief and rage from his father's murder still fresh. Why was he here if he wasn't going to finally end this struggle that had torn him apart for so long? Give into the Darkness and finally take his birthright? Become more than a failure and a coward?
"Switch off," Kylo muttered, shoving away the Dark thoughts. His eyes jerked up, realizing he had been standing still for longer than was prudent. He searched the corridor for anyone who could have seen or heard him, but it was still blessedly empty. He needed to move.
Kylo went to the corner where the Resistance team had turned and headed in the opposite direction. Not for any particular reason other than he didn't want to encounter them again. His exit strategy was about as well-developed as the rest of his plan, and he didn't want to complicate things if they crossed paths.
Kylo crept through the halls, ducking into alcoves whenever he heard footsteps approaching. The technician's uniform would satisfy anyone looking at the first glance, but their subconscious would likely start to realize something wasn't quite right, and the last thing he wanted was to be thrown out of an air lock because his boots weren't First Order standard issue. He could use more mind tricks, but they were unreliable with their results – the stormtroopers earlier had been susceptible, but there was no guarantee the next unfortunate would be.
Kylo made his way up to the main decks and he straightened, trying to look purposeful before emerging into a more central hallway. He couldn't avoid all the mouse droids, but they had limited intelligence programming and minimal logic matrices anyway, so they wouldn't notice anything out of the ordinary short of blasterfire. He kept his eyes forward and down as another patrol went by, but they didn't even glance in his direction. He had to step out of the way for a pair of self-important officers who didn't bother to alter their path to avoid him. While it was irritating, it was also gratifying that his flimsy disguise was holding up. It wouldn't last though. He had to find her, and soon.
He kicked himself for thinking about Rey again, his hands tightening to fists with his nails biting into his palms.
If he wasn't going to kill her, what did he expect would come from seeing her face-to-face again? He should want to destroy her after what she'd done to Han - that's what the Dark on Ahch-To had reminded him. But deep down he knew it was his fault. No matter how she fought against the truth, it was his fault that she'd been abandoned, that she'd felt her only choice was to turn to the Dark. He deserved justice – the Dark demanded it, one way or another.
But an even deeper darkness welled up inside him, one that he had forgotten to miss, but one that had kept him company all those lonely, tortuous nights on the Pearl when he'd been running away from everything and everyone. It carried familiar, well-worn thoughts that imagined throwing himself at Rey's feet only for her to reject his pleas for forgiveness.
Those fantasies always ended with her blade in his gut.
Even if it meant forcing her hand. Maybe she would finally destroy him, and he could atone for everything. Maybe it would be enough to pay for his sins, for his father's death, for his betrayal of Rey.
He left the busy corridor and stepped beside a recessed data terminal to calm his thoughts, running a hand through his hair with shaking fingers. He still had no idea where he was going. The First Order was apparently very stingy with directional signage, something he remembered from his frantic escape through Starkiller Base. He briefly considered reaching out with his feelings and letting the Force guide him to her, but his anxiety quickly nixed that idea. He had to keep his Force signature shielded – he couldn't afford to let the Knights of Ren discover his presence first, or worse, Snoke.
So Kylo had no choice but to rely on simple deduction to find her and determine the only place where he knew she would be eventually. He had to find her quarters.
He knew they were likely to be with the other high-ranking accommodations on the upper levels. Kylo reached a junction, an open space that extended several levels upwards. The floor dropped off ahead of him, narrow catwalks reaching out to the minor power reactors. Beside him was a bank of turbolifts. Quickly, ignoring a pair of troopers tramping by and the officer trailing a black BB unit, he summoned a turbolift.
It took him a few tries, but on the third attempt he found the level he was looking for. It was quieter on the upper levels. He passed a few officers who barely spared him a glance when they saw the technician's uniform.
When he found her quarters, it was deceptively obvious. He nearly walked past it, a corridor that stretched a long way before terminating in a set of blast doors, setting it apart from the rest of the officer's quarters. Something else struck him as wrong about that corridor and it took him a moment to realize what it was: dust. The rest of the sector had been spotless, the floors and walls scrubbed to the point of being slick, but here the corners held bits of dirt as though no one had bothered to clean – or maybe they'd rather not approach what lay at the end of the hall. The glowpanels, too, seemed slightly dimmed as though dust had been collecting there untouched for too long.
Kylo moved quickly to the end of the hallway before anyone could come upon him, and he only hesitated a second before touching the access panel to open the doors.
The blast doors slid open and he stepped back, reaching into his borrowed jumpsuit to grip the hilt of his blaster. To his relief, no one was waiting on the other side. He waited for an alarm to blare or a warning to flash, betraying him, but nothing happened. Kylo exhaled and entered the quarters of the Knights of Ren.
No one was home. He walked through the eerily quiet rooms, his entire body tense with the expectation that one of Kira's masked furies would materialize around a corner. He let his senses expand slightly, seeking to anticipate an unpleasant surprise. But there was nothing – they were gone and had been for a few days, at least.
The hall was dark, but as he passed, dim light glowed from the floorboards then faded away again. It was unnervingly silent except for the whisper of recycled air from the vents and the ever-present hum of a starship in space. From what he could see, the common areas were well-furnished but not well-lived in. He could understand now why there hadn't been more deterrents in place when he opened the blast doors: they didn't care if someone intruded. The space felt distinctly sterile and impersonal. The only feature of interest was an expansive viewport that overlooked the portside wing of the Supremacy and the distant triangular specks suspended in the void that made up the rest of the fleet. Kylo stopped at the transparisteel to look out. The sheer vastness of the First Order flagship defied human comprehension, but he wasn't here to gawk.
The Knights' personal quarters were lined up further down the hall. These doors were clearly locked and secured so only their tenants could enter, likely with a manipulation of the Dark Side enforcing the physical bolts. Hers, he knew, would be at the end of the corridor.
The anxiety and panic he had been repressing since the Falcon had arrived at the Supremacy caught up to him in a wave, combining with the more recent disappointment that she wasn't here.
The door was locked; the access panel didn't even respond to his touch. Beyond he felt a dull sense of waiting Darkness, but nothing more.
Her absence made sense, now that he realized it. She had been eager, on edge when they'd last connected, probably because she knew something. As he stood in front of the uncompromising door, Kylo had a sudden sinking feeling that she had been involved in Luke's death. Somehow she'd found his uncle despite not having the complete map. It wasn't so impossible, really if the First Order could track a fleet of ships through hyperspace using a supercomputer algorithm, they could certainly find one grumpy old man who had stayed in the same place for the past five years.
His nausea thickened in his gut, realizing that Rey – Kira Ren – had murdered another member of his family. And now here he was, literally groveling at her doorstep, begging her to pass judgment on him next. The brief moment of irony was overwhelmed by a flash of anger. Kylo pounded on the door, but it didn't yield, of course. He considered using the lightsaber he carried on his hip, hidden under the jumpsuit, but that would be a waste. She wasn't here.
But then –
As though the thought had summoned her, the inconspicuous hum of the ship was washed away, leaving a void of sound except for his ragged breathing. Kylo turned, and saw a dark spectre wreathed in shadow standing in the hallway behind him.
"Rey."
The lights at the floorboards didn't glow around her because she wasn't truly there; she was only real to him. She was left in darkness but he could feel her presence in the Force, so genuine and vivid it took his breath away.
"Ben." She stepped closer to his little circle of light. She was wearing her full gear, the thick material of her jacket hiding the armor she wore. But her hood was pushed back and the helmet missing, showing her red-rimmed eyes and tangled hair. Her brow wrinkled in confusion. "What are you wearing?"
He glanced down at himself, remembering his First Order attire. "I came to find you."
She blinked, then her face settled into a frown. "You should've waited on the island."
"You found Luke?"
Her eyes didn't waver. "Yes."
Kylo felt his nostrils flare before he could school his expression. "You didn't have to kill him."
"No." She tightened her hands into fists, the leather of her gloves creaking. "I wanted to."
"But why –"
"Because Skywalker wanted me dead." She let out her breath in a hiss. "Snoke wanted him alive."
Kylo didn't know how to engage with either of those statements. A beat passed. "Is that why you killed Han? To piss off Snoke?"
Her eyes finally skipped away from his. "No."
"Was it because you hated him?"
"Of course not." She had the edge of her cloak wrapped around her fist, and the fabric was stretched taut across her knuckles. "He wanted me to come home."
Kylo felt himself trembling. "Then why? I'm trying to understand." Do you want me dead too?
Rey took a step back but he grabbed her elbow and held her in place, not thinking to be surprised that he could touch her, even though she was lightyears away.
"Why didn't you just kill me instead?" he demanded. "You could've, so easily, when I was your prisoner, cut off from the Force. Why didn't you?" he demanded, keeping his voice low.
"Because I'm weak," she said quietly.
"Not good enough." He could feel her disquiet, see it in the way she held herself so still, as if something might break if she so much as exhaled. "Why did you kill my father?" he repeated, his voice breaking on the last word
"I had to make a choice," she whispered. "One that showed the Dark Side was my decision. It belonged to me, not anyone else."
"But why him?" Kylo said, the anger he felt coming out as despair.
"Because he's the only one who believed I could come back."
It hurt. Real, physical pain that burned behind his eyes and lodged claws in his chest.
She was right, of course. Everyone else, Kylo included, was so blinded by their ignorance and fear of Rey's ability with the Force that they had forgotten that she was more than a Force-user.
Kylo had always thought that his father was the ignorant one, unable to sense or manipulate the Force or understand what it was like to be so connected to everything around them. But the Force had blinded Kylo to the rest of the galaxy, one that Han had tried to share with him and Rey in his own way.
With a jolt, Kylo realized he understood, and he wished he didn't. He understood why she'd killed Han. And even though the thought made the bile rise and burn in his throat, he knew that if it had been him instead of her standing over the chasm on Starkiller, on the precipice between light and dark –
He would have done it too.
He shuddered and dropped to his knees, his hands twisting into his hair. There was no way he could do what the Dark wanted, even aside from his weakness, he had no right to destroy her for something he could have done just as easily in another lifetime.
Kylo just wanted to be free from this endless, relentless pain.
"I'm sorry," he gasped.
Her fingers slid under his chin, lifting his face to hers as she knelt in front of him. "It's not your fault," she chided gently.
He met her gaze, relaxing the painful grip on his head. Her eyes glistened with the beginnings of tears.
"I should have been there for you."
"Ben –"
"I was so wrong to leave. And I did it again, and again."
The first tears slipped free, leaving damp tracks across her cheeks. He reached up and cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears. He searched her face, noting every detail from the sharp curve of her cheekbone to the soft rise of her brows.
"Rey." His breath comes out in a shuddering exhale before he locks onto her wide eyes. "You're not alone anymore."
He says it easily as though observing a plain truth, but the depth to his voice makes it sound like the most binding oath.
She inhales sharply, her hazel eyes luminous, outshining the lingering pain.
"Neither are you," she answers.
She must feel the rising heat in his expression because her eyes flicker to his mouth, and that's all the warning he gets before Rey leans forward and presses her lips to his.
It's artless, more of a collision than a kiss with the way their noses mash together and she almost falls onto him. He sits back, pulling her with him as one hand finds her waist and the other supports him from behind so they don't tumble over completely. Her hands slide into his hair, tugging him closer as she leans over him.
He saw it then, as vividly as he felt the way her taut body slides eagerly against him, the way her soft lips move hungrily over his, their legs tangling as they try to get closer without breaking apart.
It was their future.
And stars, the image of what will be, of them, together, finding peace with each other and the universe, nearly rent his heart in two for the ache of wanting it. But, no, she was here, now, and he groaned deep in his throat as she arched against him.
Kylo was just starting to consider doing something more, like slipping his hand under her many layers or pulling them down to let her fully devour him, when she broke away, staring into his eyes again. He couldn't help but smile, the covetous, desperate ache in his chest bundled away and forgotten as she smiled back at him. The incredulity and the light in her face told him without a doubt that she had seen the future too, their future.
"Where are you?" she said with a desperate breathlessness.
"The Supremacy," he answered without hesitation.
Her eyes flickered with concern before blooming with excitement. "Wait for me," she urged.
"Rey –"
She was gone, leaving only the impression of her weight and her warmth in his hold.
Kylo sat up slowly, elbows on his knees as he looked at his empty hands. A self-deprecating, disappointed chuckle slipped out into the silence of the Knights' suite. It took a few minutes before he was collected enough to stand on his feet.
There was no question what he was going to do now.
