Chapter Five
You would be wise to let the darkness cradle your light.
Kylo Ren still donned his amused grin beneath his dark mask as he surveyed the seemingly dead body of Rey. The Supreme Leader, of course, had been spot on: she was a force to be reckoned with. He also begrudgingly had to credit Skywalker for foreknowing the skills to teach her in order to stave off the inevitability of her darkness. The old man knew she would break, Ren thought, and so he provided her with techniques far beyond the beyond basic training of which he had expected her to be knowledgeable.
The Jedi knew more than he gave him credit for, now that he thought about it. Skywalker had known it was only a matter of time before Ren saw his chance and took it, only a matter of time before he took Rey.
Ren had come to know her mind well enough to anticipate her mood swings. Mornings and afternoons were the happiest for her; training with Skywalker on the craggy outcroppings of the island, learning to hold her breath for tens of minutes at a time under the frigid waves, accepting the Force into her body, feeling its warm energy flow through her blood, encouraging her.
It was when the sun disappeared, setting over the picturesque water, that she was alone with her thoughts. And that when she was the most vulnerable.
He felt the veritable shift of her emotions, from light, hopeful and airy to isolated, uncertain and frustrated. She was contradicted, both questioning her talents and prideful of them. Most of all, however, she…missed.
She missed her simplistic life on Jakku. Her non-existent family. Above all, she missed her friends. Especially FN-2187.
He sneered behind his mask, remembering the pathetic traitor he had slashed in two, the one who had dared use Skywalker's lightsaber, his lightsaber. And in his anger and his haste to get to Rey, he had left the weakling bleeding on the pure snow, failing to snuff him out like the worthless trash he was.
Another day, another failure.
But he wouldn't fail at this.
While Skywalker was asleep, late at night, Ren would creep into her thoughts, creating waves of longing to be reunited with FN-2187 and the other Resistance garbage with which she associated. He tapped into her deepest urge: the urge to have others, a family, the utter desperation she had to not be alone.
It took months of subtle probing, entering her mind so softly that neither she nor Skywalker had any idea he was doing so. Every night planting seeds, and every day watering them. And one night, after a particularly challenging week of training in the cold, windy, watery desert of Ach-To, those seeds sprouted darkly.
She did exactly what he wanted her to: she left Ach-To. Secretly, without Skywalker's knowledge. She needed to be with her friends again, and in a childish state of glee, she decided to surprise them; she hadn't notified the Resistance about her departure, either. He had felt the elated pride in her throat as she raised Skywalker's shuttle from the depths of the ocean, hovering it just above the waterline as she swam out and climbed on board, piloting it away from that forsaken star system and toward D'Qar.
At Ren's direction, The Finalizer had intercepted the transport a mere two hours later, forcing it out of lightspeed on its way to the Resistance base. As if her emotions were his own, Ren felt the absolute anger rise in her core, frothing and threatening to boil over as the tractor beam took hold of her shuttle. The power she emanated at that moment, in her total fury, sent chills across Ren's entire body. It was magnificent.
General Hux had barked orders to the deck crew, and Ren had stalked off to the docking bay as the shuttle slunk closer and closer to The Finalizer. Captain Phasma met him at the entrance to the bay, asking what his preference was for boarding the wayward transport.
"I shall handle this myself, Captain," he said coolly, striding toward the transport.
"Very good, sir. We shall remain in ready formation just outside," she responded.
The shuttle's entry ramp had suddenly descended without prompt, and Ren was pleasantly surprised to see Rey standing at the top of it. Her cheeks were flushed in her anger, her bland gray Padawan garb hugging her slight frame. He noted her utility belt and the lightsaber that hung from it. It was Skywalker's.
"Welcome back."
She didn't respond, and Ren continued, "If you don't walk down here by yourself, I will have to come and retrieve you."
She hesitated briefly, ultimately deciding to descend the ramp without incident. He could feel her internal struggle; she was actively fantasizing about cutting him down where he stood, in front of half of what remained of the First Order, just to make a point. Just to show him that, in her mind, everybody deserves to reap what they sow.
He was more than moderately disappointed when she chose not to ignite her lightsaber and engage him. It would have made her transition a lot easier. Then again, it seemed this girl lived to make his life anything but easy.
Rey stopped just beyond arm's reach. Grasping at her waist, she removed the lightsaber, holding it out to him. He had narrowed his shielded eyes, wondering if the weapon would come to him if he were to will it, or if it would still evade him.
As if she read his thoughts, Rey said sharply, "Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot." She walked right up to him, her face inches away from his chest, and looked up into his mask with fire in her eyes. She placed the lightsaber in his left hand harshly. "I should've remembered that it doesn't come to you when called."
He saw a flash of red and instantly, her neck was cupped in his right hand. His grasp was as gentle as a feather's weight, but her knees immediately buckled and her hands reactively flew up to grasp his wrist in her desperate attempt to alleviate any of the pressure crushing her airway.
"Skywalker may enjoy your snarky, disrespectful remarks, but I do not. I suggest you remember that." He released her throat both with his mind and his hand, and she gasped, regaining her composure and her access to oxygen. "Unless you have anything else to add, I will show you to your holding cell."
She had followed him silently, sulking, to Cell 0418. He stepped aside as the door opened, and her eyes squinted against the harsh manufactured lighting, her nose tingling as her nostrils filled with the chemical antiseptic used to clean the room, eradicating any evidence that there had once been another unfortunate soul inhabiting those four small, jagged, unforgiving walls.
He gestured toward the room, and her hazel eyes flickered his way, starting at his chest and rising to his mask. Her glare was menacing, but he could see distinct panic behind her brave façade. He could feel her pulse race and could almost hear the ringing in her ears. He was caging an animal who had been in captivity too long, one who would do anything for freedom, for control of her own life.
This is what would break her.
And break she did.
The evening after he had presented her to Snoke, the Lieutenant in charge of the Holding Bay had sent word that Rey, who had been refusing food for almost two weeks, had also required medical attention for an open sore in her mouth and was now vomiting and clawing at the walls, growling inhumanely and yelling out. He'd assumed that there had been a little embellishment on Lieutenant Aila's part, but thought it prudent to assess the situation himself.
Thinking back on it now, Ren uncomfortably remembered the feeling in his chest as he walked into her cell and gazed upon someone unrecognizable. She looked like a ghost, a sheen on her pallid skin, contrasting with the scarlet blood on her hands and face, from where she had actually been scraping the walls in an attempt to escape. His breath had caught in his throat and he removed his mask, needing to see with his own eyes how utterly unhinged Rey had become.
And, in that split second, he remembered his own mental break at the hands of Snoke. How he had screamed in agony for days in a dark, dank cell, how he had cursed his father and his mother and his uncle for torturing his soul, how he had felt abandoned and alone, and how the only thing that would alleviate the pain that poured from his bodily depths and radiated from his skin was taking his nails, which he had intentionally grown long, and digging them into his rib cage, drawing blood and bruising the tissue. And when the blood stopped running, he would pound the wound with his fist, relishing in the pain as it purified his body and his fractured mind.
He remembered how he became this way. And now he was doing it to her.
And in an instant, before thinking, he held out his hand and beckoned her toward him. His heart wrenched inside his chest as she flinched, expecting him to strike her or manipulate her body against her will. And then she did something that caused his brain to override any semblance of duty or dedication to the Dark Practices or the First Order.
She laughed. And it was the most awful sound he had ever heard.
It cut him to his core.
He had so much pain, so much deep pain. He knew he and Rey were connected, and he couldn't stomach the thought of harboring her pain, too. In that moment, he was overcome with understanding and mercy, and thought of nothing else. Taking her by the waist, his palm heavy on her forehead, he funneled all of the warmth and comfort and peacefulness he could scrap together into her body.
Her wailing had ceased, and he felt her entire frail body ease in his arms. Her round, young eyes peered up at him, the glassy sheen gone. In that instant, she had come back to him. She was Rey again.
She was Rey again.
She was his enemy again.
Remembering himself and angrily cursing inwardly for letting the plight of this…this girl…get the better of him, he pushed away from her and instructed her to tidy up her appearance. He grasped desperately for his mask, feeling the inner release as his emotions dissipated and his sense of inconsequential disassociation set in. His face was obscure, replaced by emotionless metal. He was in control again. He was a Dark Agent, a killer of Light and grandson of Darth Vader.
He turned around one last time to look at Rey Kenobi, granddaughter of Obi-Wan, and wondered what the hell he had gotten himself into.
…..
He anticipated that Hux, being the insufferable weasel he was, was the tattler who had informed the Supreme Leader of his uncharacteristically merciful reaction toward the despondent Rey. While the Supreme Leader was above mentioning informants by name, he knew that no other soul aboard The Finalizer would dare to intentionally place him- or herself in the bad graces of Kylo Ren. Since Hux was fully aware that he was eternally in the worst of Ren's graces, he might as well go ahead and live up to expectations.
"Show me your face and explain yourself." His tone was the epitome of menacing.
Ren swallowed hard and removed his mask, cradling it under his arm as he looked up into the horrid face of Snoke. His mind raced with excuses, with reasons, with lies. None of them added up, and Ren could feel the seconds pass, and with each one, the Supreme Leader's patience wore thinner and thinner.
"I have none, Supreme Leader," he croaked.
Pause.
"You are a descendant of greatness, of Skywalkers. And yet you act like a Solo," sneered Snoke scathingly.
The disgrace shot through Ren like a lightning bolt.
"I haven't seen this much light in you in years, Kylo Ren."
"No, Supreme Leader. I have done all you asked, dedicated my life to you and the First Order and the Dark Practice…"
Ren trailed off as Snoke suddenly leaned forward on his throne, his image still flickering slightly as the new holoprojector settings hadn't yet been properly adjusted. "You would do anything for me."
"Yes," Ren said, stepping forward eagerly. "Anything."
"If I told you I wanted her dead, and I wanted you to be the one to do it, you would happily oblige me."
Ren knew his face told his leader otherwise, but he insisted, "Yes, I would kill her without protest. However, I would advise against it. She has proven herself to have the potential to be the worthiest of all allies, once she is turned. As a direct descendant of Kenobi – "
"Your objections and justifications give you away, Kylo Ren."
Defeated and uncovered, Ren remained silent. He looked down at the floor, feeling empty and lost. But when Snoke spoke, he provided Ren with the guidance he so desperately needed and craved. "You will get into her head, delve into her darkness, and rip it out from her body to display to her and the entire galaxy. You will do what it takes, and will dedicate whatever length of time is necessary. Solo was the first barrier that stood in your way to achieving total darkness. Rey is the second, most important barrier. Overcome her and make her your own, and darkness is yours."
Snoke's advice rung in Ren's ears as he stood above Rey in the holding cell, surveying her unconscious body like it was a work of truly remarkable art. He turned his head and said to Lieutenant Aila, "Leave, and shut the door behind you. I do not want to be disturbed unless by the Supreme Leader himself. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," she nodded, turning on her heel and activating the locking mechanism on the door with a swoosh-thud.
Rey's body was sprawled unceremoniously on the hard, lumpy standard-issue cot. Removing his mask and placing it on an adjacent metal bench, he cocked his head to one side, thinking critically. Then, moving with delicate but deliberate purpose, he picked her up, her limp body draping over both of his arms, and gently set her on the floor. He unclasped his cape and hung it over the small window of the cell door, a two-by-two glass pane that personnel used to check on the condition of prisoners. He didn't need any curious observers.
He swiftly walked back toward Rey and sat down on the floor just behind her head, crossing his long but muscular legs in front of him. He felt a bit foolish, but this was the only way he had been taught how to do it. He carefully lifted her by the shoulders and placed her head into his lap. Her body was cold to the touch, but he could still feel the blood coursing through her veins, and he was both annoyed and curious that his pulse remained in sync with hers.
Arching his back and relaxing his shoulders, his head hanging low, he breathed deeply and placed both of his hands over her forehead, forming a diamond in between his index fingers and thumbs. He calmed his thoughts but kept his purpose at the forefront of his mind.
As he entered her suspended state, he could sense how thankful she was to be at peace. Away from him. Alone.
He grimaced angrily, thinking of the embarrassment she had caused him, resenting how she threatened his complete turn to the dark. Time to take away her comfort, as she had taken away his. It was time to make her vulnerable, as she had made him. He would take her for his own as the Supreme Leader had instructed.
As he made his presence known, he could feel her subconscious cower in terror. His chest expanded with a powerful sense of strength and ownership, and a smile passed his lips. Now, she was his.
And if he couldn't rule her, then he would ruin her.
Author's Note: Thank you all for your response to this story. I hope this explains a bit more as to Kylo Ren's seemingly boiling-hot-and-then-freezing-cold responses to Rey, and I hope it delves into their strange but enticing dynamic.