His return to being Supreme Leader Kylo Ren is shockingly swift. In a depressing statement about how decimated the officer ranks are, he has to announce who he is when he walks in. None of the remaining military leadership ever saw him without the mask—they were too low level to have ever met him. But once he chokes someone, people readily accept his identity.
The current leaders are desperate. They immediately fall all over themselves to defer. That's not the old First Order way, where powerplays for rank and gamesmanship over status were constant. But the men and women who remain aren't the A team or even the B team. They are more like third string walk-on players for the battle for the galaxy. They never aspired to be in their current positions. It makes them enormously relieved that someone with experience and talent has finally shown up. And so, in the end, his return to command is a bloodless coup that takes all of ten minutes.
Are any of the stragglers covert Final Order loyalists? They might be. So with an eye towards earning their allegiance, Kylo tells them he fought at Exogol alongside Emperor Palpatine. He was wounded and survived thanks to a secret Sith loyalist—ironic shout out to the unnamed Darth Plagueis there—who shielded him and healed him. Now, he is back to rally the troops and win the war. We don't need Palpatine and we don't need Snoke. We can do this together, Kylo promises. Our cause still has merit and my resolve has never been stronger. It's just what the flagging spirits of the diehards need to hear. They snap to attention and get busy.
Within an hour, Kylo ascertains just how bad things are. Supplies and munitions are short. The fleet is miniscule. The troops are limited. The officers are discouraged. The current effort has been to survive another day, but even that seems tenuous.
Kylo quickly realizes the problem. Like the Empire, the First Order thrives on process and procedures. Its leaders are regimented and orderly thinkers. They advocate best practices and follow the chain of command. They swear oaths they keep and they believe the neo-Imperialist dogma. This mindset is, of course, all in furtherance of the cause of order. But it can have a chilling effect on independent thinking. These men and women don't think outside the box, they reinforce the box. Such is the nature of most institutions, but particularly the fascist variety. Unfortunately, it's a big handicap when the institution itself is threatened. Kylo decides that the Order needs creative, innovative thinking if it is to last another month.
So he girds his top people for a paradigm shift. Forget everything you think you know, he instructs. Throw out the conventional wisdom about how we do things. We will have to do more with less. We will have to adapt to our circumstances. We no longer have any advantage. We are not the aggressors. We are the underdogs who have nothing but a dream . . . but we will win nonetheless.
What successful military operation in recent memory fits this description? The Rebellion.
As soon as Kylo says the words, his hastily assembled leadership team becomes apoplectic. For the most hated villains in the First Order mindset are the leftwing terrorists who toppled the Empire. There is immediate, appalled but carefully respectful pushback.
It's his cue to double down on his First Order cred. Kylo now starts grandstanding for his cause. We will use Rebellion tactics against this latest Republic. We will humble them as they once humbled us, he promises. We will be as effective as they once were, but for our cause to reinstate the Empire. Those words are met with determined stares. No one agrees with him, but they fear too strongly opposing him.
So Kylo amps up the rhetoric, chewing the scenery Darth Sidious style. Our ends justify our means. All that matters is that we win, Kylo growls with a true Sith's ruthlessness. For the men of the Dark Side don't have scruples and they could care less about honor and consistency. This is a straight up revenge play. It's payback time for the Republic. Whether we fire the Starkiller at Hosnia or begin a series of terrorist bombings on Coruscant, we will do what it takes, he vows dramatically.
The analogy to the Rebellion is an imperfect one, since the newest Republic is still very much a work-in-progress. Poe Dameron and General Finn are hardly analogous to Darth Sidious and Darth Vader helming the decades-established Empire. If anything, the odds are far more even this time around, Kylo assesses. As bad as the current First Order may be, it isn't the same longshot as Mon Mothma's ragtag insurgency. Still, no one likes his strategy. However, no one has any better ideas. Moreover, these guys are mostly low-level officers who are long conditioned to following orders. They fall in line and comply with reluctance.
But how to learn to think like covert rebels? How to plan guerrilla raids? Asymmetrical warfare is not taught in First Order military academies. No matter. Kylo himself will be the brains. He is actually well suited to the task. He grew up listening to enough war stories from his Rebel mother and uncle to know how these tactics work. Plus, he's Han Solo's son, so he knows a thing or two about improvising in a tight spot. And, well, his small-time criminal father did plenty of sneaking and stealing in his day. Kylo ruefully knows he is as much the heir to those dubious legacies as he is the heir to the Force traditions of the Jedi and the Sith. It's time to put those Rebel scum and smuggler scoundrel talents to good use.
His first problem is lack of supplies and equipment. "We don't have the time or the ability to launch major offensives on all of those worlds to get what we need." Kylo gestures dismissively to the star map projected on the wall behind him that shows ten Rim systems now under Republic control that are critical to the war effort. He reasons, "We don't need to hold the source of the raw materials. We just need the finished products."
"Those are our worlds. Those are our people," an especially grouchy Colonel objects.
"We will liberate them in time," Kylo promises. "But we are not ready to do it yet."
"So what do we do now?"
"We steal what we need."
"We what?" the Colonel chokes.
"You heard me." Kylo flashes a rare, devious grin. "The rebels never had a territorial strategy to gain resources. They stole their ships and hyperfuel. All those X-wings that blew up the first Death Star were originally Imperial ships," he reminds everyone.
"So we need to plan a series of supply raids?" the flummoxed Colonel surmises.
"Yes. And whatever we don't steal, we destroy." That's Kylo's new spin on the old strategy. He will scorch the earth to leave his enemy scrambling for resources just like he is. Because whatever supplies they can't take for their own use, he will make sure cannot be used against him.
"Total war. No quarter," he decrees. It's an order these frustrated military types can get behind. When all else fails, go blow some enemy shit up. It does wonders for morale.
Fortunately, he left Zakuul with a trove of Intel to use to plan raids. The powered-down BB unit droid in the Falcon and Rey's comlink and datapad yield plenty of Republic security codes and transmission channels. Rey didn't have much actual information, but she had access to a lot of high-level information. And now, the First Order has access to it as well. Since it's being read by authorized and pre-existing means, there are no red flags to alert the Republic to the security breach. Rey apparently never reported the loss of her equipment—probably because it would raise questions she would rather not answer. It's the lucky break the Order needs. His hacker types perform a massive data dump that very effectively compromises the Republic.
There is no time to waste. Three days later, the first supply raids commence. They are planned with multiple small operations occurring nearly simultaneously to blunt the severity of the enemy's response. Each raid also becomes something of a diversion for the others. The raids are intentionally lowkey so as not to attract a lot of notice. It's on the scale of what local pirates might do. The tactic works so well the first time that Kylo replicates it again days later. He's not even certain the enemy realizes the Order was behind the thefts, when all is said and done.
Then he personally helps to destroy a Republic supply convoy massing in the Rim near Wobani. It's a hit-and-run ambush based off the tactics he recalls his father describing the drug lord Pykes using against their rivals the Hutts. While the First Order gains nothing of strategic value from obliterating the transports, it sure feels good. Plus, in just over two weeks' time, he has a few small successes to his credit. It goes a long way to convincing his skeptical officers of the merits of his leadership.
While his military struggles to reestablish itself, Kylo turns to his second problem: public relations. He needs to change the narrative that the First Order is a lost cause. In the wake of Exogol, he also needs a message that will move the Order past Snoke and Darth Sidious to focus on him. The point is short and simple: Kylo Ren is back and so is the First Order. Sit tight because it's not over yet.
The communications experts suggest a splashy reintroduction to the galaxy. Can he lose the helmet? That will stoke everyone's interest. We need to give people a reason to watch, they tell him. Plus, let's show the galaxy that this isn't your parents' Empire. That you are a young and dynamic leader, not some old, withered guy in a hood like your predecessors. That's fine by him. His helmet was lost with Vader's helmet on the Finalizer and he hasn't had time to get a new one.
Besides, there's no reason to hide any longer. His family are all dead. Kylo decides that it is time to publicly own who he is. He's the grandson of Darth Vader and the heir to the Empire. But also, the son of a Rebellion general Han Solo and the Republic matriarch and Resistance leader Leia Organa. That second part is key. He's the privileged son of a Core world Senator and Princess who ditched Jedi training and defected to the First Order. He is the embodiment of the sentiment he wants the whole galaxy to emulate. An example of a young man who saw through the lies of the Jedi and the Republic and went seeking an alternative.
His true identity was an open secret among the First Order leadership for years, but it is news to the current crew. Most take it with grumbling acceptance, like everything else he's doing. The PR types, however, are delighted to have something juicy to work with. They plot a strategy to dribble out confirmation of the details to keep people speculating. They want to develop an air of dashing mystery surrounding the Skywalker scion Prince of Alderaan Supreme Leader Kylo Ren. He's amused, but goes along with it. But he draws the line at rebranding himself Darth Ren. He's not a true Sith and never will be. His cause isn't Darkness, it's balance. The Dark Side is just his current tool.
When the Republic sends over unsolicited surrender terms, Kylo pounces on the opportunity to get a jump on his enemy. He responds emphatically and publicly, with his helmet off as requested. Within minutes, he goes viral. Within an hour, he breaks the holonet. The Republic is caught flatfooted, looking inept and foolish.
Encouraged, Kylo turns his PR team loose. Go fight the enemy, he orders. We will fight on the land, in the air, and in space. You fight in chat rooms, on message boards, and on social media. Encourage discontent. Stir up trouble with anonymous posting. Be witty. Be entertaining. Do what you must to keep people reading. Deploy fake news and stoke discontent. Don't make it easy for the Republic to hold their new elections.
With the war of weapons and the war of words refocused, Kylo now turns his attention to what truly matters: the war for the Force. That means Rey. Powerful but lost, well-intentioned but foolish, unreachable and untamable Rey. She's his enemy girlfriend he can't stop thinking about. His equal he needs for an ally. One half of an historic Force dyad that Darth Sidious destroyed and Darth Plagueis attempted to restore.
He's still very angry about Rey's latest rejection. Hurt that after all that has transpired between them, they are in the same position as they were on the Starkiller Base. Rey is hostile and mistrusting. He feels forced to fight her even though he would rather teach her. They shouldn't be enemies, they should be friends, lovers, and fellow students of the Force. But instead, they seem perpetually stuck where they first began. It is beyond frustrating.
Kylo is worried too for what may lie ahead if Rey persists in her plan to create a reformed Jedi Order. Darth Plagueis might kill her to keep that from happening. And while he himself doesn't want to harm Rey, he does believe she's making a terrible mistake. So what's his next move? When they were at this point the first time, the Force bond brought them together. It becomes his go-to solution. He decides that his best hope for a future with Rey is to rekindle their special connection. If nothing else, it will allow him to keep a watchful eye on her from afar.
In order to reestablish the bond, he has to see Rey in person. That shouldn't be too hard. Now that he has announced himself to the galaxy, he expects the Republic to be after him. No doubt they will send their Jedi to kill him. All he has to do is wait for Rey to show up. But to make it easy, he leaks sketchy details about his upcoming planned visit to a First Order world so she'll know where to look for him.
Will she come?
She does. His girl always takes the bait.
He feels her in the Force before she arrives. He's in a meeting when the sensation occurs. Kylo abruptly rises to his feet. The room looks to him questioningly.
"She's here," he announces.
"Who's here, Sir?" the ranking officer in the room asks.
"The Republic Jedi."
The officer turns to his subordinate to instruct, "Alert all security. Lockdown the facility."
"No," Kylo preempts them. "Let her in. Carry on," he commands as he heads for the door.
"Sir, where are you going?"
"To welcome my guest."
"But Sir!"
Kylo doesn't wait to hear more. He heads to the entrance of the empty municipal building he has purposely chosen for this moment. He stands feet planted at the top of the steps leading up to the front door. He's waiting out in the open to make it easy for her. Will she come with troops? He's ready, if she does.
Sure enough, here comes Rey tearing up in a speeder bike. She looks like a university student in nondescript casual clothes wearing a backpack with her hair in a ponytail. If it's an effort at subterfuge, it fails spectacularly. For no matter what Rey wears, her Force betrays her. But dressed as she is, she's adorably ordinary. She's also alone, which is fortuitous.
Behind him two squads of stormtroopers now appear along with his worried officers. Everyone has a gun drawn to protect their reckless Supreme Leader who has presented himself for capture.
"Stand down," he orders. "She's mine. Do not interfere."
"But Sir!"
"I will kill anyone who shoots," he growls, his eyes never leaving Rey walking towards him. "Stand there and look tough if you must, but the penalty for disobeying me is immediate, painful death. Have I made myself clear?"
"Yes, Sir."
Rey walks up to the bottom of the steps. She shrugs off her backpack and draws out a lightsaber hilt. She's very nonchalant about it. If she's scared, it doesn't show. His girl is fierce.
He watches as her eyes flit across the small army assembled behind him. "So this is a trap?" she surmises.
"You'd be disappointed if it wasn't." He eyes her new weapon. "Where'd you get the sword?"
"Our mutual friend."
"Is it red?" he smirks.
She responds by lighting it. It's blue, like he expects.
He refuses to be provoked. But the act of aggression sets his pulse racing. This is weirdly like flirting. "I knew you were coming."
"Yes, this is a trap. The goal is for me to come."
"I meant I sensed your presence." She is like an earthquake to his mind. "This is exactly the circumstance when you need to hide in the Force. Mind your training, Rey."
She lifts her chin and squares her shoulders. "You won't convince me to try your Dark Side tricks." She shrugs off his teaching and sniffs, "I guess we should have started with an airstrike."
"This is a school and you know it. Is the Republic prepared to slaughter younglings to kill me?"
"These days, they might be," she admits. She shoots him a warning look. "Don't make a habit of using human shields. Poe and Finn want to end this war."
"Is that what you're here for?"
Rey sidesteps the question. She starts to spin her saber. She's showing off. "How's the leg?"
"It's healed."
"I see your eyes are brown again. Your yellow Sith eyes are scary."
That's the point. "Extreme Darkness is dangerous."
"So . . . this means you're back to normal?"
"I have my strength back."
"Are you sure? Because I could go easy on you," she offers with the ghost of a smile about her lips. Her eyes find the troopers behind him. "Since you feel the need for reinforcements . . . "
"They won't interfere."
He walks down a few steps, still declining to light his own sword. It hangs at his waist in a showy display of forbearance. "Do we need to fight?" he asks. It's a serious question.
"It's what we do."
"It's not all we do."
Rey's cheeks turn bright pink at that comment.
He turns to the troopers. "Secure the perimeter. Shoot anyone who attempts to intervene or record this. I don't want it on the holonet."
"Haven't you heard?" Rey snorts. "You're the holonet's newest star influencer." She performs another flashy spin and juts out her hip, looking every inch a badass bitch. Then she invites, "Are we doing this?"
"If we must." With a sigh, he calls his own weapon to his hand and lights it. She readies herself for a fight, but he stops her. "Wait. I have the high ground." He proceeds down the remaining steps to her level before they begin. "Your move," he offers Rey the opening attack. It's what passes for gallantry from him.
She answers with a leap and a swing. The battle begins.
"How many times did you watch that video?" he goads her as they exchange opening blows. "Did you like and subscribe?"
"I'm not a First Order groupie."
"You've made that abundantly clear." He easily swats away her weapon aimed for his feet. Then, he returns the move just to watch her jump. "You have an open offer to be my Empress," he drawls.
She blocks his swing before she answers coolly, "Oh? I wasn't aware you had an Empire still."
"Give me time."
Rey responds in true Jedi fashion, "The oppression of the Sith will never return!"
"I'm not a true Sith, and you know it," he retorts. Observing her swordplay clinically, he approves. "You've been working on your forms."
"A little."
"I can see the improvement. But your timing is off." And where's the Force push? This girl always fights dirty. So far, all she's doing is lackluster saber passes and half-assed lunges.
Her eyes dart to his surrounding troopers. "Can they hear us?"
"Probably not. Just ignore them. Say what you came to say."
"Are you sure?"
"Go ahead."
"Alright, then. What are you doing?"
What does it look like? He swings. "I'm fighting you."
"You're not even trying. You're just defending," she complains.
"You wanted this, not me."
She disengages and they circle one another warily. Rey tries again. "I want a real answer. What are you doing with the First Order? More war won't bring balance. Plus, you can't win. It's over! It's been over since Exogol! What could you possibly achieve at this point?"
"Did you come here to convince me to surrender? Or are you proposing we settle this with trial by combat?"
"Surrender is a perfectly acceptable option—"
"No, it's not."
"—And it will save lives. It will let the galaxy move forward in peace," she argues.
Hardly. "The Republic's peace is a lie," he hisses. "Dameron won't change anything. He's more of the same. If we lose, it's only a matter of time before the next civil war tears the galaxy apart again."
"I know." Rey looks deflated as she admits, "I know . . ."
He vents, "They are making all the wrong decisions punishing the Rim and ignoring the peoples' complaints. Hunting down the Order will just compound the resentment. Your friends should be offering a few concessions and a general amnesty."
"I know."
She looks and sounds sincere. "Then why are you here urging me to surrender?" He's confused about her motives.
She stops her stalking and lowers her blade.
"Well?"
Rey looks around at their armed audience before she answers softly. "Because if you give up, they won't kill you."
He doesn't believe that for a second. At the very least, there is a prison cell on Coruscant with his name on it. But whatever. He's far more interested in the subtext of her explanation than in a debate about its merits. With relief—and no small degree of smug preening— he replies, "I knew you cared."
Rey frowns at his gloating. "Of course, I care."
That was never a foregone conclusion, but it's definite encouragement. Finally, Kylo feels like he is making headway.
She starts to argue her case. "Those surrender terms are negotiable. You need to send back a counterproposal. Keep your public stance of defiance but start covert negotiations. Ask for that amnesty . . . demand more Senate seats for the Rim . . . promise that your people will reconcile and work within the Republic system and I will help you get some political muscle for your supporters."
She's so naive. "This isn't selling scrap for portions, Rey. There is no deal to be had. My people built Starkiller Base. They're way past attempting to reform a broken system of government their grandparents first saw die."
She warns, "If you don't agree to a peace settlement, this could go very badly." Her voice is shrill at the prospect.
"I know."
"Then why are you doing this?" she half wails. "This is pointless suicide! Everyone thought you were dead! You could have stayed dead and watched from the sidelines."
"I didn't want to make it too easy for you and your friends," he smirks.
"The only person who benefits from this war is—"
"Your grandfather?" he preempts her reference to the old Emperor who their audience—along with the rest of the galaxy—thinks is dead.
"Yes!" Angered, Rey resumes swinging.
They both fall silent now, concentrating on the swordplay. Rey is intent on beating him, looking for the winning hit. He, by contrast, defends while he looks for his opening. There it is. They lock swords and he uses his superior strength and leverage to wrench the sword hilt from her grip. Her weapon goes flying out of reach. Rey is neatly disarmed without a scratch on her. It's perfect. Everything is proceeding according to plan.
As Rey reacts, she loses concentration. It's the distraction that permits him to freeze her in place. Extinguishing his own weapon and calling hers to his grip with the Force, he approaches and declares the contest won. "To the victor go the spoils."
As dismayed Rey stands heaving against his power, he steals her consciousness. She instantly slumps. He scoops her up. Turning to his lead officer, Kylo announces, "Our work here is done." Time to head for his shuttle and then back to one of three remaining First Order star destroyers.
Once onboard his meager flagship, Kylo insists on carrying Rey to the detention center himself. He lays her down gently and then steps back to let the regular staff secure her in the interrogation chair.
"Anything special, Sir?"
"No. That will be all." He dismisses the men so he can be alone with sleeping Rey.
He reminisces a moment about how this was how they first met. That business in the Takodana woods doesn't count. It was in the interrogation cell on the Starkiller Base when they first exchanged words. Angry words. She was the humble scavenger in rags with amazing talent of which she was wholly unaware. She had a pretty face but dirty fingernails and a no-nonsense demeanor that was unlike any woman he had ever met before. He was hooked. When he looked in her mind, her backstory was as extreme as his, just in different ways. Then she saw into his mind and it was scary but exciting. By the time she said the words 'Darth Vader', he was falling fast and hard.
He has always believed that moment between them is what triggered their dyad. He didn't go seeking it. She didn't want it either. But the Force sensed opposing equals and bonded them nonetheless. He didn't know that until later, of course. In the moment, he thought the Force had sent him a student. Here was the girl who could help him kill Snoke. All he had to do is woo her and teach her and the galaxy would be theirs. How naive it all seems looking back. Snoke was a puppet, he was a pawn, and Rey would refuse his offer twice. But it is with that same foolish hope in mind-that he and Rey might help one another, and love each other, and they themselves and the galaxy would prosper for it-that he does what he does now.
With a flick of one finger, he activates the interrogation table controls with the Force. Rey's reclining position lifts up. Now she's mostly upright, like prisoners normally are questioned. But he takes it farther than usual, standing her straight. Held in the chair off the ground, she's eye level with him. It's perfect. He steps close.
He arouses her from Force sleep with a gentle mental nudge. Her eyes open and for the briefest of moments, they are soft focused, heavy lidded, and welcoming. Like bedroom eyes the morning after a night of passion.
"Ben."
She says his name—his birth name—and it is a shared secret between them. His heart skips a beat like always when he hears his old name on her lips. But the impression is fleeting for as Rey gathers her wits, she recognizes where she is and comprehends her captivity. Now, her eyes are anything but soft. His girl is pissed.
"Comfortable?"
She twists against the restraints. "Only you would do this."
He's enjoying her frustration. She's hot in bondage. "It was for old time's sake," he quips. "I wasn't ready for you to leave. I missed you. Did you miss me?" he goads.
"Hardly. I was sent to kill you!"
Yes, he knows. "I was hoping you would come. The Resistance fell for my trap . . . as did you. They sent you to kill me but you came to warn me and to broker a peace. Whose side are you on?" he wonders snarkily.
"You won't get any leverage using me as a hostage," she growls.
"You're my guest," he corrects her.
Like usual, it's easy to provoke her. Rey crows, "You've lost! We've won! The war is over!" It's the same tone of vehemence she used when she announced that she had found Luke Skywalker. If only that feat had solved all her problems . . . naive Rey still hasn't learned that nothing important is simple. There are no easy answers.
Rey looks increasingly annoyed when he does not react. "We've won! Get that through your head and compromise, Ben! Don't be stupid and get yourself killed."
He sniffs, "You know better. No one has won until Darth Sidious is dead and until the Force is balanced."
She looks away. "Spare me the speech. I'll never join you."
That succeeds in getting under his skin. Nothing rattles him like more rejection from this girl. He scowls as he looms closer. They are inches apart. "You heard nothing I said on Zakuul, did you? Rey, you don't get to choose—the Force doesn't care what you want. It doesn't care what I want either! People think we have such power, and we do. But we are powerless to the whim of fate."
His intensity gets through to her or maybe it's their close proximity. But Rey abruptly falters in her staunch Republic posturing. She blinks at him and mutters, "I was sent to kill you but I wasn't trying to kill you."
"I know." Her candor evaporates the sting of her rejection. It's an apology of sorts. Encouraged, he moves in very close now, starting to execute the strategy he has planned for their reunion. That night on the Falcon, he hadn't expected things to go so far, so fast. But this situation he has anticipated and plotted like a good Sith.
Her eyes lock with his. "You knew?"
"Yes." He rests gloved hands on her waist and leans to whisper huskily in her ear. "I've never seen you fight so badly."
They are cheek to cheek. Is she feeling the tension in the Force they create? Because the Force feels as excited as he is for his impending big move.
Rey inhales. Yes, she's nervous by his nearness. Her thoughts are a mess, but one concern rises to the forefront: is he going to kiss me? Kylo has to repress a coy smile in response. He's long known that Rey is far less indifferent to his appeal than she pretends.
"We're not personal enemies," she breathes out her rationale.
He starts nuzzling her neck, murmuring, "I hope not."
"But we are at political odds," she contends, still facing straight ahead.
He moves to drop a kiss beneath her ear. "We don't have to be."
"We do," she replies matter of fact, still pretending to ignore his attentions. "But I don't think we should resolve those differences with swords."
Kylo's hands move upwards from her waist. His next words are spoken between kisses in a row down her jawline. "I had you three times . . . once I could have taken your head . . . twice I could have hacked your sword arm . . . made you a real Skywalker," he chuckles darkly.
"I wasn't at my best."
"You need my training." He relocates his lips to her cheekbone now. Drawing out the leadup to the real lover's kiss he intends. He's trying hard to make smooth moves to disarm and distract her. He wants Rey relaxed and receptive.
"You need a teacher," he chides softly between cheek kisses.
"I know," she sighs and closes her eyes. It's just the signal he was waiting for.
He pulls back slightly so that his lips hover directly across from hers. The anticipation is killing him. Time to make his move. "I will help you," he promises, lifting gloved hands to cup at her cheeks. "This will help you."
It's time. He pulls her face forward as his lips claim hers for a deep passionate kiss. It's not a surprise for Rey. She responds instantly. And that's when he thrusts his mind hard and deep into hers.
She wrenches her lips free and gasps. Eyes shut tightly against the pain as she reacts. "No, Ben! No!"
He follows her movement, intent on using physical touch to promote their mental connection. His hands are on her body as he presses himself close. His cheek is hard against her averted cheek. His mind burrows into hers. It's too late to stop him, he's already in.
"Yes," he coos with a softness at odds with the brutality of his actions. "Bond with me again."
She chokes out, "No!"
"Half of my power lies in you. I need this. We need this—"
"Get out!"
"You want this, you just don't know it."
"Get out!" She growls between gritted teeth. He feels her mustering her defenses belatedly, preparing to push back. Good . . . good. It's just as he has hoped.
He's still flush to her form that is firmly strapped to the interrogation chair. His face is very determinedly placed side by side with hers, her thrashing held to a minimum by his hand at her temple. She would be helpless except Rey has the Force. Lots and lots of Force.
He keeps talking as he senses her anger swell. "This way I can protect you. I will be able to feel you and to reach you—"
"So will Sidious if he gets in your head!"
"We are stronger together—"
"You left me!" she shrieks in his ear. "You walked out on me!" In his mind he sees what she really wants to say but doesn't: you fucked me and left . . . I should never have slept with you . . . I'll never do that again . . . you'll never be who I need you to be . . .
He wants to probe more at her regrets from their night, but it's an especially guarded set of emotions. It's his own fault for having taught her mental defenses. And so, before he can ascertain more, she heaves his mind out. She ejects him quite effectively. But yet again, like on the Starkiller Base, her novice skills combined with her extreme power lead her to overshoot the effort. Rey's mind pushes him out and promptly stumbles headlong into his mind from sheer momentum.
He groans with satisfaction. Yes . . . yes, this is perfect.
This time he will not resist. For this exchange is what he has been hoping to provoke. He surrenders to her mind in his. In the moment, she is angry and Dark. It's delicious.
"Yes. Push into me. Harder—HARDER!" he practically roars, his emotions feeding off hers thanks to their mental connection. It's a rush of rage and adrenaline. He loves it. "SHOW ME YOUR POWER!" he hollers. And wait, did he say that out loud? Because the troopers outside the door just heard every word.
Pissed off Rey does not disappoint. She's all up in his mind within a heartbeat's time. He has lots of thoughts right now and they're all about her. About how much he misses her. About what a big mistake she is making. About how he thinks reinstituting the bond is the best chance of them reconciling. He's doing this for her own good, for their good, and for the galaxy's good as well. Their love is the will of the Force that will be everyone's happily-ever-after. Plus, even if they never balance the Force, they will have lots of glorious sex until Darth Sidious kills them both. For the things he plans to do to this girl when he gets a second chance in bed . . . He has a long list of fantasies for them to act out. But at the top of the list is convincing her to put those gorgeous lips on his—
"Eeeew! No!" she balks. "Absolutely not!"
Yikes! He really wishes she hadn't seen THAT.
Rey pulls back mentally in an abrupt recoil that hurts more than her initial intrusion. But no matter. That interlude was a rough equivalent to their exchange on the Starkiller Base. He's satisfied.
"There. Let's hope that's enough." He steps back to release her. "I'm sorry it hurt. But it was necess—"
He never finishes the word. Rey slams him hard against the wall behind him with a mighty Force push. He goes down in a sprawl. As he starts to get up, she throws him down again. Harder the second time. It's a sucker punch that is rather Dark of her.
"What. Have. You. Done?" Rey is aghast. "This is revenge? Is that it?" she hisses, her face wet with perspiration. And also, could that be tears? "You lured me here to bond us?" She is irate.
"Lured is a nice word for an assassination mission," he drawls from the floor.
"I told you I wasn't trying to kill you—"
"Then why did you come?"
"I had to!"
"People like us don't have to do anything!" he counters. "Why did you come? Tell me!" When she looks away, he insists, "Tell me!"
She sputters out words as he climbs to his feet. "I wanted to see you . . . to see what you'd become . . . and to talk to you . . . We do far too much fighting and not enough talking—"
"That's rich coming from you."
"I thought maybe we could have a conversation about where this is all heading . . . that you could be convinced to surrender. Ben, what could you possibly hope to achieve with the First Order at this point?"
"Victory."
"Oh, come on—"
"I'm serious."
"You're serious?"
"Yes. I won't surrender."
"Then, I'll be forced to kill you and I don't want to kill you! Especially now if we're bonded. Oh, Force, what have you done?" Rey looks like she is beginning to panic. "Now, I'll never be rid of you . . . until someone kills you . . ."
Yes, that's the point. She can't cut him out of her life and run away to the Republic.
"I can't believe you did that . . . why? Why?" she wails, her anger giving way to despair. "Why would you do that? We're enemies again now—"
He refutes that statement. "We are not enemies. This war isn't about us. I have no war with you."
"You are the Supreme Leader of the—"
"None of that matters for you and me." She's confused, so he rushes to assure her, "Rey, you will always be welcome here. I don't care about politics. I only care about the Force."
She bares her teeth at him, eyes squinted as she yet again rejects him, "I'll never join you! Get that through your head!"
Rey starts to thrash against her restraints again. Straining against her tight confinement. It prompts him to free her. Having her in the interrogation chair undermines his point about them not being enemies.
"Let me get you down—"
"I don't need your help!" She closes her eyes and concentrates as she summons the Force. Seeing what's coming, he flicks a finger in the direction of the control panel to trigger the release lever. The interrogation chair opens as she concentrates, straining both bodily and in the Force. With Rey positioned upright and leaning, the abrupt freedom sends her falling forward into him.
"Ooof!" She grunts as he catches her, sending them both reeling off-balance for a moment. But he rights himself and doesn't let go. He holds her steady in his arms. Without the height boost of the chair, she is flush against his chest.
"Get off!"
He tightens his hold to a vice grip. She needs to hear this. "I bonded us so that you will never be alone. The Force won't let you hide. There is no place you can go where I will not be able to reach you."
"Get off!" she tussles with him.
"It works both ways. You can always find me. I took a risk doing this, but you are worth it."
He releases her now. Stepping back to give her space. "I did this to protect you. I meant what I said—you will always be safe with me. No matter how this war unfolds and what your friends do, you are always safe with me. You and only you." Not her traitor general or her other friends.
"You knew I didn't want this bond! And you did it anyway! You had no right!"
"I know." He knew she would react this way. But since persuasion has failed, this is his next recourse. He regrets it came to this, which is really what he means when he adds, "I'm sorry."
"'I'm sorry' doesn't help! Can we undo it?"
"No." He hopes not.
"Are you sure it worked?"
"Time will tell." This had better work. Because he's not getting a second chance to try again.
"This is such a mistake! You should never have done that!"
He is offended. It prompts him to growl back, "We are not a mistake. We are the will of the Force."
"You're obsessed!" she accuses.
"No." Well, maybe a little. It's just that he lies awake at night thinking of this girl. About how much he wishes she could see that they are perfect for each other. The first recognition of her Force imprint earlier today had set his pulse racing. She is like a fever that won't break, like a dream that won't die. A heady mix of suffering and frustration that he's sure is worth the effort. "I think I'm in love," he blurts out before he can stop himself.
"In love?" she whispers. Her face drains of color and she takes a step back. It's not the reaction he is hoping for. But somehow, all the truths he tells this girl are badly received at the outset. That confession—as much a surprise to him as to her—is no different.
"Don't say that . . . please don't say that . . . " She briefly covers her face with her hands. But the vulnerability passes. She's quickly back to being her usual tough, blunt self. "So now what?"
"We wait."
"I told you—how many times must I tell you—I'm not joining you!"
"I meant we wait for the bond. Rey, you are free to go."
This has been his plan all along. To establish the bond and set her free. He wants her to return of her own volition. They are in a relationship. She's not a prisoner.
He gestures to the door and it slides open with the Force. Then he adds an awkward plea, "Unless you want to stay, that is . . . " Stay. Choose me, not the Republic. Choose the Force, not politics. Choose the future, not the past.
But Rey is already striding out the door. He rushes to catch up.
"I'll take that." Rey plucks her lightsaber from the hands of one of the waiting stormtroopers with the Force. The other troopers immediately aim their weapons at this aggression from the prisoner, but he waves them off.
Ignoring them, she demands, "How do I get home?"
"Steal a TIE and jump to Coruscant. We can wipe any secure information remotely. You won't get anything interesting to take with you," he warns.
"Which way to the hangar bay?" She's in no mood to linger.
"Follow me."
He leads the way and Rey, one of his staff officers, and a squad of troopers make haste for the hangar bay.
"Are you supposed to help me escape?" Rey wonders aloud from his side. "This seems very unorthodox. Usually, I'm sneaking around."
Yes, like in his quarters on the Finalizer, he remembers. He tries again. "Would you rather stay?"
She snorts. "Dream on, Sith."
He takes the sneer in stride, shooting her a look. "It's an open offer, Jedi."
They halt on the edge of the busy hangar bay. Rey looks around at her options. "Are they all fueled up?"
"Yes. We stole the hyperfuel from one of your bases."
She grunts. "Then I'm stealing it back. That one."' She points to the fighter nearest the airlock. "I'll take that Interceptor."
"That's mine."
"You fly a Silencer."
"I did, but you stole my prototype."
"Right. Endor. Endor was . . ."
"Not your best moment?"
"No, it wasn't. But after today, I think you deserved that." She turns to face him now. She fumes as she announces, "You should know that I'm going to do everything I can to block the bond. Everything," she growls for emphasis.
"Go ahead. You'll only prove my point when you fail. Destiny, Rey, we are—"
"Don't say it!" She holds up a hand and cuts him off. There isn't a person in the First Order who would dare such disrespect, but Rey does. In front of witnesses, no less.
To save face, he puts on his best smug smirk.
She immediately changes the topic. "Will you think about what I said? About negotiating with the Republic?"
Not a chance. "You're way out in front of Dameron."
She doesn't deny it. "I'm trying to find a peaceful solution that will save your life."
"Oh, the irony of that statement coming from my assassin."
She huffs, "I'm leaving now."
Ignoring their many onlookers, he proposes, "Goodbye kiss?"
She doesn't answer. She just walks off.
So he calls after her, "Come back any time you want to pretend to kill me."
She keeps walking. Faster.
"May the Force be with you," he hollers after her.
Fuck you, Ben.
And wait—she didn't say that last part out loud. And yet, he understood it plainly in his mind. And along with it, plenty of Rey's confused and upset emotions.
Rey halts mid-stride as realizes as well. She whirls and gapes at him from across the hangar bay. "Oh, no!" she breathes out in a voice that carries.
"It worked!" he crows, feeling elated. For that was their bond. He just heard her thoughts directly to his mind. He can't suppress his ear-to-ear grin. Because oh, is he going to have fun with this. He wants to high five the universe. Thank you, Force.
White-faced Rey exits immediately. The reckless girl jumps to lightspeed from behind the open airlock in a move Han Solo must have taught her.
"Why did you let that prisoner go?" his watching staff officer asks. The man is incredulous. And, given the strange dynamic between him and Rey, the question deserves an answer.
So Kylo responds, "She's not a prisoner. She's a highly placed, deeply embedded spy within the Republic leadership."
"She's their Jedi."
"Not exactly." Kylo has no idea who among the remaining officers has Final Order allegiance. But if this guy's not already Final Order, some Sith loyalist is bound to approach him along with the rest of his inner circle sooner or later. For now, Kylo is betting that Palpatine's men are laying low. Waiting to see if he will do Darth Sidious' work for him yet again. Sidious has everything to gain from the First Order snatching victory from the jaws of defeat. Kylo's counting on that to protect him from any reprisals in the short term.
And so, he tells the curious staffer what Darth Sidious wanted him and Rey to believe: "The Republic's Jedi is really Emperor Palpatine's granddaughter."
"Sir?" the man blinks.
"She goes by Rey but she was born Reina Palpatine. For obvious reasons, the heir to the Empire does not use her full name."
"I see."
"She is not to be harmed," Kylo orders. "She may be captured, but not killed. Publish that directive to all commands. I want a no-kill order on the Republic Jedi. I will deal with her myself."
"You're sure she is one of us?"
"Absolutely. She will come home to us when the time is right. I have foreseen it," he lies.