Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize.

I'm not entirely pleased with this chapter, if there are any recommendations, I would love to hear them!

Chapter Four

Wandering aimlessly through the Starkiller, lost in thought, Kylo Ren found himself standing in front of two troopers standing guard.

"Sir," they snapped a salute. He ignored them.

Inside the room, one medidroid stood at a computer. The silence was broken by machine beeps and the occasional hiss of pressurized air.

"Sir," the droid said, as Kylo Ren approached the bed. "All test have been completed. The patient has severe sepsis, bordering on necrotizing fasciitis."
"Meaning?"

"Since she was unable to receive bacta treatments aboard the Finalizer, the infection has spread into the blood stream and possibly the fascial lining deep inside her leg. She has a high fever. If left untreated, organ failure is imminent. We will begin treatments within the hour."

"How long will recovery take?"

"Unknown."

Ren glared down at the prisoner. Her bandage had been changed and a carbon fiber bandage covered the wound on her cheek.

"Do you have a name for the patient?" The droid's question jolted Kylo Ren out of his thoughts. Going through the escaped pilot's memories, the woman showed up quite often, a name attached to the face had inspired strong emotions in Poe Dameron.

"Lys. Lys Valon."

"Thank you." The droid turned and clicked away at it's computer, entering the information. Kylo Ren removed a glove, reaching for her temple. Her flickering light was the same, he didn't try to grab it this time, just feeling around it, looking for an opening.

The woman, Lys, moaned, a sheen of sweat breaking out over her forehead. Light burst behind Ren's eyes, intense pain and emotion invaded his mind. He stumbled back. As soon as his fingers left her face, the light and feelings faded.

She moaned again, gripping the covers and arching her back slightly. Machines began to beep insistently. The medidroid whizzed over, various medical instruments extending from it's hand. An identical droid came through the doors, brushing past Kylo Ren. The medidroids unhooked the machines and wheeled the bed out of the room.

Kylo Ren remained, frozen, in the empty room, reeling. His breath hissed robotically through his mask. What the hell just happened.


Four days passed before Kylo Ren returned to the medical levels. He couldn't stop thinking about the touch of her mind on his. Her raw emotions overwhelmed him. Fear, anger, and… joy. The combination confused him. What did she have to be happy about? Her pitiful friends had abandoned her. She would die here, but she was glad?

She looked better today. Her bruises and minor cuts had all disappeared, although the carbon fiber bandaid still remained. The veins that had been so vivid days before, now were only light blue lines under her skin. A fresh white bandage wrapped her thigh and various wires and tubes attached to her arms and chest. Her dark red hair spread out on the pillow, long and loose.

"Patient Lys Valon has completed ten cycles of bacta treatment. The threat of necrotizing fasciitis is mostly past. Her fever remains unbroken," the medidroid reported. "In an hour, she will return to the bacta tanks for ten more cycles which will complete her treatment."

Ren didn't look away from the woman. Sweat still shone on her face, but she lay still. Curiosity ate away at him. Slowly pulling off a glove, he placed it on the covers.

Kylo Ren placed a single finger on her forehead, closing his eyes. Her skin was hot and damp. He felt around her mind, searching for whatever triggered her last time.

Nothing.

He slowly placed a second finger by the first.

Still nothing.

Frustrated, Kylo Ren placed his whole hand against her cheek, gripping the side of her head.

Her mind brightened fractionally. He pressed a bit harder.

Movement.

His eyes snapped open. The woman stared at him, reminiscent of their first meeting. Her eyes were just as shockingly blue. He jerked his hand back. She flinched as he tore out strands of her hair in his haste.

Taking a second look, he saw her eyes were unfocused and glazed. Slowly, they slid back shut. Kylo Ren let out a breath.

Why had he held his breath?

Confusion filled him. Then anger. He started running a thumb over the activation switch on his lightsaber.

The conflicting feelings followed him out of the medical levels. Kylo Ren by-passed the bridge and Hux, heading towards a training room. Two troopers boxed, but one spotted Ren, immediately saluting. The second followed suit, then they both scurried out of the room.

Flowing through his forms, lightsaber lit, Kylo Ren tried clearing his mind. The only thing that mattered was the next movement. A turn here, high block, another turn, low block. Turn. Thrust. Slash. Kick. Turn. Step. Motion after motion. All thought seeped from his head, leaving only emotion. The constant anger seethed, his confusion only feeding the flames. With every sweep of Kylo Ren's lightsaber, his anger surged, suffocating him.

He ripped his mask off throwing it and his helmet to the side. He ran through more forms with more force. The floor and surrounding equipment suffered.

Kylo Ren finished a particularly involved set of motions with a thrust of his lightsaber. He paused, breathing hard.

In the glow of his lightsaber, a single red hair shone, hanging off his sleeve.

Red exploded into Kylo Ren's vision. His lightsaber slashed, coming down again and again. A roar in his ears drowned out all other noise.

His vision cleared first, allowing him to take in the destruction of Training Room 63. Pieces of metal and plastic scattered the floor, the two consoles smoked and sparked, and the mats were reduced to shreds.

Sweat dripped into one eye. Kylo Ren blinked away the burning sensation, chest heaving. The ruined walls echoed his gasping breaths back at him. His anger had subsided, leaving an emptiness behind. Kylo Ren longed to pull it back, to fill the space, but he couldn't summon the energy. His lightsaber was heavy in his hand. He clipped it back into his belt. Turning, Ren summoned his mask to his hand, put it into place and left without a glance at his devestation.


She was in a bacta tank the next time he saw her. Floating, unconscious in the light blue medicine, she looked…peaceful. She wore little more than underclothes and a chest wrap. Tubes and wires wound around her, her hair floated in a cloud around her head. Dark lines covered the inside of her left forearm. Kylo Ren stepped up to the tank, trying to see the blurred lettering.

"Sir."

The crackling of a lightsaber filled the quiet room. The medidroid that surprised Kylo Ren fell to the floor with a loud clatter, sliced in half.

Several more droids immediately wheeled into the room, a medidroid and two cleaning droids.

"Sir," continued the new droid, unconcerned with it's companion's fate. "What do you require?"

"What is on her arm?"

"A tattoo. LY5-10-32976," the droid rattled off the string of letters and numbers. Kylo Ren stared hard at her arm.

"What do they mean?"

"Unknown."

"Well, what do you know?" Kylo Ren snapped, eyes narrowing behind his mask.

"It is many years old, based on the break down of the ink, most likely given to the patient as a child."

Ren tapped the hilt of his lightsaber as he considered the droid's words. There were many jobs in the galaxy that required ID numbers, stormtroopers for one. But why would a child need the numbers permanently placed on their body?

Slavers.

He chewed the inside of his cheek and tapped faster. Slavery had been outlawed under Republic rule long ago, but was still practiced in the Outer Rim territories.

Kylo Ren forcibly stilled his hand. He didn't care about the prisoner's pitiable past. She had been a slave? So were hundreds of thousands across the galaxy. His own grandfather had been raised in slavery.

"Let me know when she wakes up," with a snap of his cloak, Kylo Ren left the room.