They are alone when Rey returns from retrieving her things from the Falcon. She dumps them unceremoniously at her feet and announces, "I'm not calling you Master." The way she says it tells him she's very concerned about the issue.

There's no point in sweating that particular detail in Kylo's view. "Get in the ship and get out of here," he growls for perhaps the fifth time.

She brushes him off like before. Rey won't join him when he wants her to, and now she insists on joining him when he wants to send her away to safety. She lifts her chin and gives him one of her freezing glares. "I've made my decision."

He eyes her in silence. She doesn't back down. He knew she wouldn't. So, he observes, "You make a lot of rash decisions."

A tagalong rolls in behind her. It beeps a greeting and he frowns. "What's with the droid?"

"He's called BB8."

"I can see that he's a BB unit. Why is he here?"

"He's a friend."

"He's a droid." That's not a friend. "I hate people who take droids with them everywhere. They're as bad as people who take pets with them everywhere. Send him back to the ship."

She digs in. She always digs in. "He stays."

"Droids record everything they see and hear. Our host won't like that. He's hiding here. So unless your little friend wants some Force lightning like your books, send him back to the ship."

For once, Rey relents. "Good point. Back to the Falcon for you." She shoos away the rolling bot.

As he watches it go, it triggers a memory. "That's not the droid with the map to—"

"Yeah, it is."

Kylo scowls. "All the more reason to send him away." He glances out the window and his eyes involuntarily finding her transportation. That makes him scowl again. "Why are you still flying that ship?"

"It's mine."

Hardly. "If it belongs to anyone now, it belongs to Chewie."

"I tried to give it to him. He wouldn't take it." Rey shoots a reproachful look his way as she divulges, "Chewie said you should have it. To remember your father by."

Yes, he can just imagine the sarcasm with which the wookiee delivered those words. Chewbacca loved his father. It went way beyond a decades-old life debt. The wookiee's devotion had ceased to be duty long before he himself was born. Too bad his largely absent father didn't have that same sort of attachment to him. Just the sight of the Millennium Falcon raises a lot of angst he is uncomfortable with. "Han Solo loved that ship more than he ever loved me," he hisses. And that's not precisely true, but it's his story and he's sticking with it.

"Your father loved you!" Rey dutifully objects. "Your mother too!" And here she goes again—drawing battlelines for a fight. This girl loves to fight. The Force, droids, his parents . . . the list of things she wants to fight about keeps getting longer. Han Solo in particular made an impression on Rey during their brief acquaintance. Even in late middle age in a fatherly capacity, Han Solo had a way with women.

Rey didn't know the man. She only knew the legend. Just like she didn't know the real Luke Skywalker. She only knew the legend of the great Jedi Master. Well, this is his first teaching moment, Kylo decides. He tells her, "Don't vest your feelings in droids and ships. Don't commit yourself to ideals and causes. Don't make the mistakes my family has. Invest in people. They matter most." Too bad his glory hungry mother and uncle and his get-rich-quick-daredevil father never realized that until it was too late. You don't undo an entire childhood worth of rejection by 'I'm sorry. I failed you.'

For once, Rey doesn't fight him. She nods and repeats, "People matter." The look on her face tells him she's a bit shocked that he could feel that sentiment. Naturally, she believes the worst in him now that he's let her down again. He tries not to let that attitude bother him. Rey is just the latest person in his life who he's disappointed.

"So how do we do this? How do we balance the Force?" Rey recalls him to their task. She's got her hands on her hips and a let's-get-down-to-business expression.

"How should I know?"

"You're the Skywalker."

"So are you apparently," he shoots back.

"Well, how hard can it be?" Rey wonders with newbie naïveté. It's very irritating how gamely she approaches the riddle that has bedeviled the Jedi for countless generations. But that's Rey. She never picks up a lightsaber until she wins a duel. He gets in her head for an interrogation and she ends up revealing his secrets. She doesn't need to train and she barely has to try. No wonder she figured she could best Darth Sidious singlehandedly.

"It all comes so easily to you, doesn't it?"

She hears his resentment and raises her chin. "Yeah, yeah it does sometimes. What did Master Skywalker say about—"

"I don't want to talk about Luke." Did that come out too fast? It did. Yikes. He flushes.

"Okay, I'll start," she offers as she takes a seat on the sofa across from him in Darth Plagueis' living room. "Luke said that for many years after his father died there was balance."

He nods. "The Jedi understood balance to mean the Dark Side in retreat."

"I think you're right. Because he said it all fell out of balance when you came along."

"That sounds like my uncle talking." Bitterness drips from his sarcasm.

Rey looks down and mumbles, "Luke was very afraid of the Dark Side."

That's nothing new. "Luke had seen my growing power and feared it. It's why he refused to teach you. He saw your tendency to the Dark Side." Rey vacillates between extremes like he does. Now, he understands why. As a child of the Force, she has the very same Dark/Light conflict as a Skywalker.

"Yeah . . . it was the first thing he noticed." Rey sighs. "It didn't help matters when he caught us in the bond."

Does she remember that moment when they touched hands to be as magical as he does? He can't tell. She's looking away.

"Luke feared the Dark Side and he struggled with it. He worried that in time he would become Darth Vader. My mother did too," he recalls.

"She told me."

"She did?"

Rey nods. "She said that we all have the capacity for Darkness, but we also have the capacity for choice."

"Let me guess—'Resist it,'" he parrots what his Jedi Master uncle nagged at him for years. "The Jedi believed Darkness is a temptation you must resist. Not a fact of life with its pros and cons. They tend to conflate the means of the Dark Side with the goals of Darkness."

"Evil . . ." she breathes out warily.

"Yes, among other things." He cocks his head at her now as he challenges softly, "Do you think I'm evil? Do you still think I'm a monster?"

"I don't know."

"That's a yes."

"I really don't know," she hedges.

He pins her with his eyes. "Would it help if I called myself Ben?"

"It might."

"Neither side of the Force has a monopoly on morality," he grinds out. This is a sore point. "My good Jedi uncle feared the Dark Side so much it led him to try to murder me, his own Padawan. But my evil Sith grandfather died sacrificing himself for his enemy son. Who was the better person? The one who wanted to kill their kin or the one who tried to save them? You decide."

"It's complicated—"

"Yes!" he seizes on her comment. "That's precisely the point. Life is complicated and life is the Force. So be wary of any creed that sees life as black and white with easy rules to follow. Don't fall into the trap of focusing on form over substance."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means worry less about how things look and worry more about what they are. Upholding the Jedi Code and swinging a blue or green sword doesn't automatically make you good and make everything you do above reproach."

"And wearing black and swinging a red sword doesn't mean you're always bad?" she slowly states the corollary.

"Can you see that?" It's a serious question.

"Of course, I can see that. It's why I came to you on the Supremacy. But I was wrong." Rey bites her lip and looks away. "You were just using me to provoke the fight that would kill Snoke."

"That's only half true."

"You also wanted me to join you . . . "

"Yes."

"I was never going to join you," she rejects him yet again.

"Then why did you come?"

She hesitates.

"Tell me." He wants to know. He needs to know.

"It doesn't matter now."

It does. "Tell me." It matters just like that kiss he can't remember matters. Because while Rey regularly swings a sword at him, she keeps approaching him as well. That push/pull, hot-and-cold attitude makes her defy easy categorization. He's never met anyone quite like Rey.

"Tell me," he presses, adding a little weight to the command with the Force.

She's suddenly red faced as she stammers, "I thought you wanted a way back . . . that if someone reached out and it was not Luke or Leia then maybe there would be no baggage from the past and . . . "

"And what?"

"And you would decide to be good again."

She came to save his soul. He knew that, of course. "So it was only about the Force and the war?" He poses the question casually, belying its importance. Does she know what he's asking?

She does. "I wanted to help you," she answers. It's very unsatisfactory. But he thinks he understands. She wanted to help him find his way back to the Light because that's the only way she will let them be together. It's the real reason she turned him down on the Supremacy. He wasn't good enough. He only got that kiss on Exogol because she mistakenly believed he had reformed to be a good Jedi.

Rey's the one woman in the galaxy who might actually understand him. Plus, she's an equal. She's not afraid of him. She's not impressed by him. Well, probably no one is impressed by him now. He's a deposed leader at age thirty. Where do you go from here? Well, since he's a Skywalker, naturally his next move is to attempt to save the galaxy from Darth Sidious. Because basically that's what all his kin have tried at one time or another. Now, the burden falls to him. It's his turn to be the hero, except Rey is determined to see him as the villain. So why is he still so drawn to this young woman who rejects him? He can't explain it.

An awkward silence falls.

This is going to be a problem, he realizes. They started out talking about the Force and they ended up talking about themselves. It's making this teaching assignment uncomfortably personal. They have enough ideological conflict to navigate without getting feelings involved.

Sure enough, when they resume speaking, it's again about themselves. Rey ventures, "So . . . do you think the bond will come back on its own?"

"I hope not." Wait. That came out wrong.

Rey looks rejected. "You don't want it back?"

"No, I do!" Did that come out too fast? It did. Too loudly as well.

"It's okay if you don't want it back . . . I understand. We're enemies and all . . . "

"We're not enemies." He doesn't have a word for what they are, but it's not enemies.

She looks up. "We're not friends either."

Damn right he doesn't want to be this girl's friend. Does she see that? He tries to build common ground. He's desperate for something—anything—to build off of here. For as alike as he believes he and Rey are, they perceive things very differently. But surely, they can unite for the good of the galaxy, if for nothing else. "We both want rid of Palpatine."

"There is that."

"That's a lot."

"It's not enough," she warns him. Because they both know they're not talking about the Force and the war just now. The subtext to their conversation is the real conversation: just who are they to one another?

She's taking his words as rejection and that's all wrong. "I want the bond," he yelps again. Meaning he wants her in his life. "But I don't want it yet. Rey, there is no dyad without the bond. And if there is no dyad—"

"Plagueis can't use us like Sidious did."

"Right."

"Can't he just bridge our minds or whatever Snoke did?" she frets.

"I don't know. Actually, I don't know if Snoke even did anything. He may have claimed credit for what happened naturally." Privately, that's his favorite version of the bond's origination—that fate brought them together . . . that despite being on opposite sides of a war and the Force, their mutual attraction was undeniable. But he would never actually voice that silly romantic dribble.

"I wondered if the bond was from the interrogation on Starkiller Base . . . " she speculates.

"Perhaps. Force bonds are notoriously persistent. We need to be careful not to do anything to promote it."

She eyes him. "Stay out of my head."

"Yes. And I don't want you to try to heal me."

"Oh. I was going to suggest that."

He glances down at his throbbing leg. "It's the obvious solution, but I don't want to risk it."

"I understand."

"We'll just train together until I heal."

"Okay."

"Good."

Rey now abruptly blurts out, "I think Luke knew."

"Knew what?"

"Knew that Darth Sidious was alive . . . that he was behind Snoke."

That pisses him off. "What makes you think that?"

"Something he said. And your mother didn't seem too surprised when Palpatine showed back up. Luke must have warned her . . . "

He can't help it. He feels doubly betrayed now by his uncle.

Rey is still talking. "I think Luke knew . . . it's why he stayed away until the end. He saw Palpatine trap his father and you. I think he feared he would be seduced by the Dark Side as well. He cut himself off from the Force for years before he died, did you know?"

He growls back, "I don't want to talk about Luke." Especially if what she says is true.

Rey cringes. "Yeah, okay. Sorry."

"Luke is gone. I don't want to talk about Luke!" he rasps harshly.

For once, she is cowed. "Got it."

But that sentiment begins to relax when they get started in earnest and he begins talking about his old training. It's pretty much impossible to talk about the Jedi Academy without talking about Luke. It's a strange feeling to years later unlock the mental and emotional box in which he has stashed those memories. It's not pleasant. And it happens mostly in fits and starts.

He finds himself telling Rey, "Luke used to say that meditation renewed the soul. He wanted us to meditate to think through our actions and others' actions. Connecting to the Force while trying to better understand our connections to others."

She looks dubious. "I never learned to meditate."

"Try it. It's how at the beginning Luke taught us to find the Force."

She bristles. "I'm not a beginner. I don't need to try to find the Force."

"Not everyone has your effortless connection," he answers dryly. "But there are other benefits of meditation." For starters, it's one of the only ways for him personally to relax. "Go on, try it," he prods, adding, "I think you'll like it."

"Alright," she grumbles. "Show me how."

"Just close your eyes and quiet your mind until you drift in the Force. There's no wrong way," he encourages. "Do it with me now."

And that's how he finds himself parroting his uncle's long-ago words to relax and to breath deep. Oh, the irony of all this, he thinks.

"Can you really sense people across the galaxy in meditation?" Rey asks, eyes closed.

"Yes."

"And can you really sense dead people in the Force?"

"I thought I did. But that turned out to be Palpatine in my head."

Her eyes pop open. Her focus is gone, replaced by fear. "Do you think he can sense us now?"

"Probably. We won't be able to hide from him for long. Me especially. He loved being in my head."

She nods gravely. "I'm sorry for what he did to you."

"Me too."

Rey looks away now as she gripes, "Luke should have told you. He should have told us both."

He mulls it over, his own eyes still closed. "Luke must have been afraid of Sidious, and that would have unnerved him. My uncle always said fear is the path to the Dark Side. He believed the lies of the Jedi. He passed them on in his teaching. I thought he was a hypocrite, but I see now he thought he was a failure. Luke couldn't live up to his own impossible ideals." It's all very depressing to think that the young Jedi hero of the Rebellion learned too late that he had wasted his life. Kylo would pity Luke if he didn't hate him so much.

Beside him, she gulps. "You think Plagueis is right, don't you? You think that the Jedi need to end?"

Kylo opens one eye to respond, "Even Luke thought that. You're the only holdout."

Rey looks thoroughly unconvinced. She grumbles, "I'm still mad about those books."

"I know. I can feel it."

Doing his best Sith Master impression, he urges her to meditate on that anger. Rey closes her eyes and dutifully tries to find the Force again as they resume their makeshift training.

It gets him reminiscing again. In some ways, these memories remind him of just how much training he has forgotten. In other ways, they highlight how scattershot and haphazard a teacher Luke was. His uncle was making it up as he went along. The bizarre outcome that he himself has now taken on that role—as the last kinda, sorta trained Jedi passing on what he has learned—is equal parts delicious and appalling. It's a responsibility Kylo never wanted and never expected. But here he is, pretending to be a Jedi Master with a few dashes of Sith wisdom thrown in for good measure.

Why is Plagueis doing this? That old fossil is very zealous about the whole balance idea. This teaching scheme is for Rey, but it's also for him, Kylo suspects. Because teaching the basics of the Light stretches his mind and tests his abilities. It also reveals his limits. He's a very rusty Jedi and it shows. This work is especially exhausting, he's finding. Like flexing a muscle that has atrophied from long disuse, the effort feels awkward and almost sore. But gamely, he tries. It's to help Rey, to bolster his own powers, and to spite his dead uncle.

But while he strives, Rey's heart is not really in it. After a few minutes, he calls her on it: "You're distracted."

"I'm fine."

"Your thoughts betray you. You are distracted." Her head is a mess of conflicting emotions right now. It's the furthest thing from the quiet calm of the Light.

"I'm not used to sitting still this much," she grumbles a meaningless excuse.

"Focus. You can do this. Luke used to make us do this for hours. He said the discipline was good for us."

"I'm doing this five more minutes, tops," she warns.

"Then use the time wisely. Focus. Let go," he urges.

But Rey struggles to hold her concentration. She has amazing power, he's learning, but very little stamina. That's her lack of training showing. It's nothing that can't be fixed with time and effort.

But she is impatient, for she is used to instant success. "Oh, I don't even know what I'm doing here," she moans as she gives up. "This won't help us kill Darth Sidious," she complains, jumping to her feet. "We're wasting our time!"

Kylo opens his eyes and takes in Rey's belligerent posture. She's got that harsh, indignant look he's seen before. "Had enough?"

"You're the one who's had enough. You don't look so good," she accuses.

"Well, I've been dead . . . "

She rails again, "This is a waste of time!"

This girl has no patience. He can't teach her. "It's too soon to quit."

"I'm not quitting!"

But, oh yes, is she ever quitting. Frustration is written all over her face and screaming out from her mind in the Force. He's seen it all before. Mostly, he thinks of Rey baring her teeth or twisting her mouth as she swings a sword his way or attempts to best his power. It's not pretty, but it has its own aggressive allure. It's also why that teary eyed version of Rey at Luke's temple had been so affecting. For this is not a woman accustomed to showing much vulnerability. In the moment, he had been moved to empathy, something very rare for him. But that's what Rey does—from the very beginning during that interrogation on Starkiller Base, she cut through his posturing and attitude to see the man within. It's as threatening as it is inviting. His reflex is to recoil as much as it is to reveal himself around this woman. She rattles him.

But just now, she is the one rattled. So, he relents. "Fine. That's enough for today." Things have not gotten off to a good start. Besides, his leg is throbbing. A break sounds good.

"I knew this wouldn't work," Rey grumbles with resentment. "This is never going to work . . ."

"It won't work if you don't try," he counters.

"I tried! You're just a lousy teacher. I need those books—"

"The books are gone. Look, of course, I'm a lousy teacher—I was a lousy Jedi! But I'm the only teacher you've got. And the only way I know to teach is how I learned myself."

"This isn't going to work . . . "

"Do you have a better idea?" he snaps. "Because I don't. This is what we need to be doing. You need to learn the ways of the Force before you can bring balance."

"I'll be on the Falcon," Rey sniffs as she grabs for her discarded belongs and leaves in a huff.

He watches her go. He's reminded of his own days as a reluctant, sullen Jedi Padawan. He was the only Skywalker at the Academy and yet he was the worst student. Even young, he rejected all the rules and discipline. Later, he would flee to Snoke and discover that rules and discipline on the Dark Side were much more harsh.

So, recalling his younger days, he lets Rey pout. Plagueis burned her books so she can't homeschool herself as a Jedi. And Plagueis resurrected Kylo Ren instead of this Ben Solo prince charming she has convinced herself she's half in love with. That makes him a poor substitute—as a teacher and as a person—by comparison. And she's mad about it.

Truthfully, he's plenty disappointed about their reunion himself. He hopes it didn't show.

Discouraged by her discouragement, Kylo grabs a datapad and starts doomscrolling the newsfeeds. It's a pastime that gives him anxiety, but he does it anyway. It's a quasi compulsion at this point. It's surely a masochist voyeur's habit as well. For he watches from afar with feigned objectivity events that are highly personal to him.

This afternoon's press reports tell him what he already knows: the galaxy is a mess again. It's amazing how fast things have flipped. After Crait, the First Order was poised to control all the major systems within weeks. But now, they are in full retreat and disarray. The news coverage is mostly filtered through the pro-Republic Core world perspective, but Kylo is enough of a realist to perceive that victory is very near for the Resistance. He gives it a few months, maybe even as short as six weeks, before the Order is defeated.

He has to force himself to stop reading. Laying aside the datapad, Kylo sternly reminds himself that the only lasting solution for all this chaos and bloodshed is balancing the Force. The real fight is here, not on star destroyers or in land battles in the Mid Rim. But like Rey, he feels antsy and ineffective hanging out in exile levitating objects and meditating. He knows he should be doing more. He's a Skywalker and every one of his clan in their own way has tried to make things better. The Skywalkers don't sit on the sidelines. They are always in the thick of it, usually leading things.

He wonders how the Hell Darth Plagueis has made it through the past fifty years? The Muun mastermind saw the Republic fall and the Empire rise. And then the Empire fell and the Republic rose again. All the while, Plagueis has remained out here on the sidelines watching. Kylo himself could never handle long term exile. It's been little over a week and part of him wants to attempt a comeback, if only to get back in the action.

Rey looks like she wants to get back in the action as well, he sees, as a flash of yellow lightsaber gets his attention through the window. He hobbles over so he can see better. Rey is outside on the landing pad running drills with that crazy new weapon she constructed. Didn't anyone ever tell her that lightsabers are supposed to be elegant weapons? That thing looks very unwieldy. Like you might cut an arm off with it.

Concerned, he keeps watching. Rey's saber passes do not begin to approach any classic lightsaber forms. They are jabs, feints, and blocks she must have learned for her wooden fighting staff on Jakku. Like everything else Rey knows, these skills are self-taught and largely improvised. He admires that self-reliance and independence, but he worries it will make Rey a very poor student. She's far too used to doing things on her own terms and in her own way.

That worries him for the future. The traditions of the Force are not to be taken lightly. If they are not properly learned, they cannot be properly taught. And that's a problem because Light Side or Dark Side, your ultimate obligation is to pass on what you have learned.

The old Emperor's old Master now appears in the doorway. Darth Plagueis approaches to loom at his side. He too watches Rey swinging her new sword.

"Blowing off steam?" the Sith Master with the ruined face raises an eyebrow questioningly.

"She's always angry."

"Uhmmm . . . yes. Reckless too," Plagueis judges.

"She's very young." Much too young for him. Whatever was he thinking?

"That's not just her youth. It is her desperation showing."

Kylo says nothing. He just watches her slashing strokes and thinks of his own self hacking away with a sword on computer terminals and walls.

"Tell me about your progress," the intimidating Sith commands as they continue to watch.

"It will go slowly," Kylo predicts.

"We knew she would be reluctant."

"It's not that. Things come easy for her in the Force. She expects this will come easily as well."

"My daughter has plenty of grit."

That's not the point. "She has no experience with real training. She has had no schooling of any kind. She thinks she can figure it all out for herself."

"She may be right."

That response grates. He doesn't want the idiot savant of the Jedi to be the one to balance the Force. Not after he has spent years toiling as a Padawan and an Apprentice. If anyone is going to balance the Force, he is.

Kylo lips press into a tight line. "She doesn't respect what I have to share."

"You mean she doesn't trust you," the old Master rumbles. "That girl has lived a hard life. Many people she believed in have failed her. It is why she does not trust."

Yes, and that's a problem. A big problem. "I cannot fix her. I cannot teach her. She believes the worst of me."

"Uhmm . . . yes. She has shown you much aggression. Perhaps you should be aggressive as well," Darth Plagueis muses lightly, "but with kindness."

Kylo doesn't know what to say to that suggestion. It's not the usual Sith strategy.

Plagueis moves on, looking him up and down. "You look as bad as ever. Did she refuse to heal you?"

"I didn't ask."

"Too proud? Or waiting for her to offer?"

"I don't need her help."

"Can you do it yourself?"

"No." He's tried, of course. Several times.

His host doesn't seem surprised at this response. "Do not be discouraged. Healing is a function of the Light."

Yes, that's the problem. His mind doesn't really work that way anymore. Years of Sith training make even the most basic of Jedi skills very hard. Honestly, he has no idea how he managed to heal Rey on Exogol. It was an impulse that just happened. Before he knew it, he was doing it. Then, she was alive in his lap.

"Lord Ren, when I saw in your memories that you healed a dead woman, I knew that you were completely capable of balancing the Force. More of this instruction—and maybe more of my Daughter—will help you connect with the Light Side again. And then, you will be able to replicate your feat on Exogol."

Old Plagueis turns back to the window now. Rey is still out there furiously waving her silly new weapon.

"She is good for you. And you for her."

He used to think that, but now he's not so sure. "She hates me. She especially hates you."

Darth Plagueis' grunts. "Then things can only get better," he judges wryly.