Kylo Ren awoke with a start, breathing as though he'd just finished a full-out sprint. The harsh white light from the single lamp brought him back to wakefulness and reality. He touched his abdomen, where Rey's saber had sliced it, but of course it was whole.
He'd dream-visited her to get information. Such as why he was suddenly experiencing a complete breakdown in every psychological defense he'd ever set against the kinds of things he'd been required to do for the First Order. Also, why she had used her precious bacta spray on him in the first place. That had been bothering him ever since he realized she'd done it, and now that he had what he'd sensed was a clear, honest answer, he still had no idea what to make of it.
As for the first answer he'd wanted, that one she probably didn't know, herself. He'd been searching her surreptitiously as she was focused on their battle, scanning her mind gingerly to try to determine what she'd done to him. But he'd found nothing. Well…not nothing.
Kylo Ren leapt to his feet and began to prowl the small quarters he had on board the Finalizer. He wanted something to smash, but given the sparse decoration of the room, he had to settle for pacing back and forth in the limited space, emotion rolling through him and adding restlessness to his muscles.
Rey was aboard the Millenium Falcon. That was no coincidence. He could practically feel his mother's intent behind that decision. Leia was shrewd, and she must have gotten a report from that pilot about Kylo Ren having spent time with Rey and Finn. She sent Han Solo to collect them personally, taking no risks about getting them to the Resistance base in one piece. Meanwhile, Kylo Ren was fairly certain that Han Solo had no idea how valuable his new passengers were to the General. Leia might love her husband, but she kept things close to the vest. It was one of the many traits Kylo Ren had in common with his mother.
His recklessness and addiction to danger, however, were definitely from his father.
Kylo Ren forced his thoughts back to Rey. How had she read him so easily? She'd sensed his roiling emotion, which he'd taken great pains to conceal. He wanted, above all else, to know how she'd managed that.
You feel so alone.
Loneliness had been the largest source of his rage, when he activated it for his own purposes. He'd been abandoned by everyone he'd once trusted. Particularly the people he trusted the most. That feeling of consuming isolation had long been at the very core of him, motivation for countless acts that drove him even farther away from the family he'd once belonged to. Except for Leia; she understood. But no one else could, and he'd been forced to create his own sense of abandonment to fuel that all-important anger.
The vast well of loneliness that dwelled within him was very familiar to Kylo Ren. What had been surprising, however, was finding one to match it in Rey. She knew exactly what it was like to be abandoned and then have no one to rely on but herself. She'd suffered as he had.
Kylo Ren found himself gripping the edge of the slim chair that sat before his tiny desk, his fingers digging into the leather back with such force he thought the dents might be permanent. He dragged his gaze up to the small mirror that hung above the desk, noting with detachment the dark circles under his eyes. The dream with Rey had been less like sleep and more like strenuous mediation, and he certainly hadn't gotten any actual sleep before that. His face was unshaven and haggard-looking, and his skin looked paler than normal. But as he surveyed his face in the mirror, he froze when he got back to his own eyes.
Ben Solo stared back at him.
Kylo Ren recoiled, staring at the reflection in horror. The eyes were the usual black, but they were soft and vulnerable-looking. They'd lost the carefully-honed cruelty that he'd spent a great deal of time instilling into them. Instead of the eyes of a killer, filled with the power of the Dark Force, they were instead the eyes of a man who was broken in a fundamental way.
NO!
He punched the mirror, which shattered around his fist and fell in shards to the desk and floor. Ignoring his bleeding hand, he whirled and faced the helmet, which was set upon its stand as usual. This could not happen now, not when he was so close to his goal. All of his work, his sacrifices, everything he'd done would be for nothing if he couldn't regain control over himself.
This was Rey's fault; it had to be. She was the one factor, the only common denominator, that could reasonably account for all of this…if only he could figure out how.
"Sir, your presence is requested at the bridge," the intercom speaker abruptly announced, making him jump. Kylo Ren fought to control his rising panic. Panic was what Ben Solo would do. Kylo Ren was in perfect control of his emotions, even when he seemed lost in mindless rage. He could fight his way back to that.
He grabbed his uniform, dressing quickly, and fitted the helmet over his head with a sense of relief.
Mouth dry and heart pounding, he strode from his room—pausing to direct a cleaning droid to pick up the shattered pieces of his mirror—and headed for the bridge. As soon as he entered the room, silence fell over its occupants, and he was instantly the subject of many side-eyed glances.
"I expect there is a good reason for summoning me," Kylo Ren said flatly.
"You have a holocall from General Hux, Sir," the senior officer informed him. Kylo Ren turned to face the hologram projector and gave the man operating it a nod. Hux's loathsome form was suddenly standing before him, hands clasped behind his back, his weasel-like face in regrettably high resolution.
"General Hux," Kylo Ren said, "I'm surprised to see that you still have not returned to your ship. Perhaps the pressure of commanding it was too much for you."
Hux's mouth contorted into a prim pout.
"As you well know, I was ordered to attend the Supreme Leader aboard the Supremacy. He requires me for the formulation of special plans that you, most unfortunately, are not privy to yet."
Kylo Ren went very still.
"What do you want?" he asked, mind racing.
"The Supreme Leader has requested that I pass on his orders to you. You are to take the Finalizer to the Malastare system."
Kylo Ren waited, but Hux appeared to be finished with his message.
"That is the entirety of his orders," Kylo Ren said, not bothering to form it into a question.
"I assume he will send along further instructions when he feels it appropriate to do so," Hux said, barely containing the glee in his tone. "In which case, I will be in touch."
"Is that all?" Kylo Ren demanded.
"For now," Hux said. Kylo Ren spun on his heel and gestured for the holocall to be terminated. He stalked over to the huge projection map that dominated the center space of the bridge, studying it until he found the Malastare system.
This was punishment for whatever Phasma had put into her report; he was sure of it. Fairly sure, anyway. All Kylo Ren knew was that he was about to give the order to turn the Finalizer's nose towards a weeklong trip to Malastare while Hux was working closely with Snoke on some secret project. Possibly the same project Kylo Ren had been trying to find out more about for years. Anger rose within him, unbidden, and in his sleep-deprived state, he could barely contain it.
"Shall I set course for Malastare then, sir?" The senior officer, evidently being acquainted with Kylo Ren's volatility, was standing well outside of lightsaber-reach. Kylo Ren tipped his mask up towards the man's face and saw him shrink back, ever so slightly.
"Yes. I will be in the training arena."
He had to go do something, anything. He was filled with buzzing, unstable energy that teetered on the edge of exhaustion. A small voice in the back of his mind whispered that he should sequester himself until the worst of whatever this was had passed, but instead, he turned his steps towards the combat training room.
Once he arrived, he heard the sounds of a class in progress inside and the impacts of blows against mats and general grunts and shouts. He surged through the door, and it was as though he'd cut the sounds out of the room with his lightsaber. All movement ceased as all eyes went to him. The men and women were wearing their exercise uniforms, which were bland grey in color and soaked in varying amounts of sweat.
"Did I say you could stop?" Phasma's imperious tone was like a whip-crack from the far corner. The sparring immediately resumed, though now there was a new tension in the room. Kylo Ren tried to absorb it to bolster up his erratic emotions, but it slipped through his grasp like water. He took his time removing his cloak, gauntlets, and helmet, scanning the combatants as he did. The tunic and undershirt followed, until he was bare-chested. He added his lightsaber to the pile to remove temptation, then approached the largest Trooper he could find. The man was similar in height, his frame filled with muscle and his eyes wide with apprehension as Kylo Ren filled the space before him.
"Hit me," Kylo Ren ordered. The man's gaze slid past Kylo Ren's left shoulder, over to where Phasma had been standing. Kylo Ren jabbed a swift punch to the man's nose, relishing the feel of cartilage and bone breaking, relishing too the resultant pain in his knuckles. The man staggered back, swearing, a hand flying up to cradle his nose. It came away covered in the blood that had begun dripping steadily onto the mat.
"I suggest you focus on me and not her," Kylo Ren said. The man belatedly got his hands up in a loose defensive position. Kylo Ren decided it needed to be tightened up. His next blow caught the man on the side of the head, and he staggered back. For his part, Kylo Ren knew from the flash of pain that he'd just cracked a bone in his hand, and with that pain came greater control over himself, enhanced focus on the fight. He felt his mind settling into more familiar patterns as the two combatants circled, his opponent warier now. The Storm Trooper managed to block the next two strikes, which came in rapid one-two succession, and even made a credible effort to throw one of his own. Kylo Ren dodged it and delivered a strike with his left hand that caused his opponent to stagger back before righting himself sluggishly. Kylo Ren could feel the man's dazedness, the draining of his will to fight. He took a step to one side, but the Storm Trooper failed to follow the movement. Kylo Ren was reminded of his dream-spar with Rey, and how she'd reacted to his steps, her strength lending her grace as she advanced and retreated in turn, her eyebrows furrowed as she concentrated on his next movement, learning…
The punch came out of nowhere, connecting solidly with Kylo Ren's right eye, causing him to stumble back two steps as he struggled to clear the blinding stars from his vision. The Storm Trooper, clearly sensing his advantage, closed in again, but Kylo Ren was ready and blocked the first punch and stopped the second one through the simple tactic of a vicious jab to the man's abdomen. He reeled, and Kylo Ren stepped in close, pressing his advantage now. Other Troopers backed away from them as the fight moved across the training mats, creating an imperfect circle around them.
Kylo Ren felt their dislike of him, their disgust as he landed another solid hit. The man went to his knees, but he fought his way back up to his feet, swaying as he made a half-hearted attempt to guard his head. Kylo Ren found himself suddenly able to bring those emotions swirling in the Force into himself, and they fed the rage he'd been kindling for many years. He felt abruptly stronger, and he realized that he was grinning widely, tasting the blood in his mouth from the hit he'd taken. The man's eyes now held only fear, fear that leaked from his very pores, though he still stood before him, still fighting. Kylo Ren felt the overwhelming desire to beat that fighting spirit right out of him.
The man went to land a punch, but he was too slow, too demoralized by the hits he'd already taken. Kylo Ren dodged it easily and stepped in close. He felt the man's spirit break just before his fist connected solidly with his jaw, sending him straight to the floor.
Kylo Ren felt his rage spiraling in a way that his rational mind knew was dangerous, but which it had absolutely no willpower to control. His aching hand extended, and the Force roared through him like black fire. The man's body rose into the air, and his hands came up to his chest, as though they could somehow stop Kylo Ren as he squeezed the air from his lungs. Terror emanated from the onlookers now, and Kylo Ren drew it all in, feeding his rage against all of the universe, tightening his Force-grip until the man's eyes glazed and his skin had turned a most unflattering shade of blue.
Kylo Ren felt the cold touch of the business end of a blaster settle at the base of his skull.
"Release him immediately," Phasma said quietly, "or I will liberate your body from your head."
Kylo Ren considered using the Force to send her blaster flying, to send her flying against the wall, striking it in a clatter of metalized armor as he watched the slow seep of blood from between the many pieces.
But he'd finally recovered his control, and he brought his anger back down, soothing it incrementally. He dropped the Storm Trooper to the floor, where he began coughing in a deep, painful-sounding way. Kylo Ren ignored him, turning to face Phasma.
"I never thought you were so protective of your Storm Troopers," Kylo Ren commented. She hadn't moved the blaster a modicum.
"That one has great potential…or rather, he did. I'll see what's left of him when he recovers. I do hope you've rid yourself of whatever spine-removing demons you've been infested with." She lowered her blaster, and Kylo Ren stared at his distorted reflection in her chrome armor. His eyes glared back at him, full of their old rage and pain. He was once more Kylo Ren.
"Don't return to my training room until you have yourself back under control," she said, completing an impeccable about-face and stalking back to her spot by the wall. In the meantime, the Storm Trooper's classmates had carried him towards the door; to the med bay, Kylo Ren supposed. A trail of blood marked his progress as they hurried him from the room. Ben Solo would have felt guilt at having done what he'd done to the man. Kylo Ren felt only satisfaction and relief.
He collected his uniform, putting it back on slowly. The pain in his hands was keeping him alert, grounding him as he swung the cloak over his shoulders, fastening it before pulling on the gauntlets and replacing the helmet. Finally, he reattached the light saber to his belt and surveyed the room one last time. Not a single pair of eyes dared look his way, though every person's attention was firmly fixed upon him.
He left the training room a different man, filled once more with the determination and brutal strength he needed to do what must be done.