AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing! Crap, I accidentally uploaded the previous chapter with the ending cut off. It's fixed now, so in case you didn't see it, you can go look at it now.

Also, since at least one reader had a question about it – Ben is NOT hearing Snoke or Palpatine or some other sinister dark sider; the silent voices in his mind are just those of his inner conscience and fears, which is hard enough on him.

"Dyad's Blessing, Dyad's Curse"

By EsmeAmelia

Chapter 39

Ben tried doing the leg-lifts the datapad instructed, but after twenty of them he found himself just lying on the bunk, staring at the ceiling, lacking the motivation to continue exercising. Then he started pacing around the cell, counting the number of times he circled the tiny room, but he lost count after fifty or so and by then his legs were sore, forcing him to sit back down on the bunk and stare at the walls tinted red from the forcefield. Red . . . the same shade as the flaming lightsaber that pierced his father's heart . . .

Suddenly Ben decided that he didn't like the color red. Red was too loud, too forceful – he definitely preferred cooler, gentler colors like blue and purple.

His stomach growled. Had he slept through lunch? When were they going to feed him? Surely they weren't planning to starve him to death, right? Then again, if Kylo Ren starved to death, that would be highly convenient for the Resistance . . .

"You're never gonna be hungry, son."

He remembered Han saying those words many times during his childhood. Han would tell stories about his days as Proxima's scumrat and how hunger was a terrible, terrible thing. The stories always ended with Han promising that Ben would never, ever have to go through what he went through.

"You're never gonna be hungry, son."

His stomach growled again.

. . .

Maybe an hour passed, maybe several hours passed – Ben had no idea how time was working in this cell – but finally a line of guards showed up on the other side of the forcefield, all pointing blasters in his direction. They didn't lower their blasters as one of them deactivated the forcefield and said, "Come with us, Ben Solo" in a clipped, low voice.

"What's going on?" Ben asked, figuring they couldn't shoot him just for asking a question.

He sure didn't expect the guard's answer.

"The Resistance generals wish to speak with you."

. . .

The guards put Ben's hands in binders and escorted him to the warden's office, clustering around him as if any gap between them would be an opportunity for him to escape. Their fear enveloped Ben even though they all had their blasters drawn, making him involuntarily tremble as they walked.

When they reached the office, there were Commander – no, General – Dameron and General Finn seated on either side of a long desk, flanking a tall, slender human woman Ben assumed was the warden, the setting sun from the window behind her casting her face in shadow. However, seated on the other side of Finn was someone Ben hadn't expected.

"Rey?"

"Friend!" D-O shouted, rolling from Rey's feet up to Ben.

"Hey, little guy," said Ben, managing a small smile at the droid despite the circumstances. "Nice to see you."

The warden loudly cleared her throat. "Have a seat, Mr. Solo."

To Ben's surprise, the guards removed the binders, though they kept their blasters pointed at him as he sat in the empty chair in front of the desk, where there sat a plate with a sandwich and a glass of blue milk.

"You must be hungry," the warden said in a clipped, no-nonsense voice. "Help yourself."

Hunger overcame any desire to ask questions – Ben grabbed the sandwich and took a large bite even before the warden finished her sentence.

"Rey here says that droid belongs to you," the warden said, the sun gleaming in her blonde hair.

"Well, not exactly," Ben said with his mouth full. "Not officially."

"Ben Solo. Friend," D-O interrupted, craning his neck up like a pet.

"He is yours," Rey spoke up. "He and I have been talking about it."

"Y-you're my friend," said D-O, and Ben imagined that the droid would be smiling if he were able to do so.

The warden cocked her head, as if she hadn't expected Rey's words to be true. "She also said that the droid's previous owner abused him and that separating him from you could be bad for his well-being."

"Really?" Ben asked, talking more to Rey than the warden. "I think being in prison would do him more damage."

"Perhaps," said the warden, "but I think we can still arrange for him to visit you regularly."

Ben gave a slight nod. "Thank you, ma'am . . . am I supposed to call you ma'am, or Warden, or what?"

"Warden Zimmer," the warden said. "Or just Warden."

"All right, Warden," said Ben, taking a gulp of blue milk. "I assume you didn't just call me here because of D-O."

"You assume right," said Warden Zimmer, nodding at General Dameron and General Finn. "These two wish to make negotiations with you."

"Negotiations?"

Dameron cleared his throat, straightening up as if trying to conceal the fear flowing off him. No doubt he was thinking about that interrogation. "Ben Solo," he said, "the war may be over, but that doesn't mean the First Order or something like it can't rise again."

"We don't want to make the same mistakes the previous Republic made," said Finn, giving a suspicious glare. "If you're really serious about being all light side or whatever, you can help us."

"How?"

"Information," said Dameron. "Base locations, names of First Order loyalists, anything you can give us. If the information bears results, we're willing to argue for a lighter sentence when your trial comes."

Ben couldn't help but snort. "Life in prison instead of an execution, how nice of you."

"Ben," said Rey, "please."

"Fine," said Ben. "I can give you information, but I don't know how much of it will be useful. No doubt the surviving First Order officers will have abandoned their old bases by now and gone into hiding. If the Empire could bide their time for years until they were ready to strike, the First Order probably will too."

"And that's what we want to avoid," said Dameron, narrowing his eyes at him. "Right now, you're our best link to the remnants of the First Order, but if you're not willing to help us, then we don't need to continue this conversation."

"No, wait." Ben took a deep breath, trying to smooth out his face and widen his eyes in hope that the generals would believe him. "I am willing to help, I'm just saying that information I have might be outdated."

"We know that," said Rey, "but you can at least try."

"A chance to make things right." Again his grandfather's words echoed in his mind. "All right," he said, trying to ignore how the generals were scrutinizing him and the guards were still pointing blasters at him, "here's what I know."