hi out there to anyone still reading this fic!
I severely underestimated how hard it would be to write while quarantined at home with a toddler lol. Damn, this took forever. Thank you so much for your comments. They are everything!
Note: Kylo has a flashback in italics and there's a ton of reflecting on the past/internal for disturbing content/themes of domestic violence.
Thanks for reading and I hope everyone is safe and healthy during these weird times.
TL;DR:
Rey POV/Kylo POV, chapter is about 12,000 words.
Also - I noticed weird typos that I thought I fixed. Uploaded twice after correcting and they were still there, so please bear with me. This site does not like my line breaks...ugh lol.
"You're sure I can't see her?"
"I'm sorry. After her injuries are treated she needs to debrief with General Organa."
Rey adjusts her satchel by hitching it higher up her shoulder and tries not to show her annoyance.
"I can wait. I just need -"
The officer shakes his head and steps around her, increasing his pace as they walk down the long passageway. Rey exhales loudly. She doesn't bother to hide her feelings. Not when it comes to the subject of her friends.
"Miss, I am sorry," the officer repeats, though he doesn't really sound apologetic, "General Organa was quite clear that you are to be transferred immediately."
"Yes, I was there , but -"
"General Organa issued strict orders," he cuts her sentence short, "the general stressed the sensitive nature of your situation and I will see her orders carried out."
Rey appreciates his tone less and less. She huffs out a rough breath and forces herself to keep up with his pace. It's not easy with someone steadily kicking her bladder.
"I understand, but I need to talk -"
Rey's voice is drowned out when a group of soldiers joins them from the adjoining corridor. The officer turns to exchange information with them and points to Rey, explaining that they will escort her to the medical frigate. Her mouth opens to say something, but then she closes it.
What I need, Rey finishes internally is to see Rose. To talk with her. I need some sort of closure, and maybe she does too.
They share the trauma of having survived Kylo Ren, though in very different ways. A lump forms in Rey's throat. She doesn't yet know the extent of what Rose may have endured while imprisoned by the First Order. Kylo's affection for Rey, deranged as it was, protected her from any nefarious plots within the Order. She realizes the dark irony of Kylo working so vigilantly to protect her from harm, when the only true threat to her life was him.
Who was there to protect Rose from being tortured - from abuse, assault, or rape?
No one.
She was kept in a cold cell and likely went days without food or drink while Rey slept in a warm bed in Kylo's opulent - but minimalist - quarters. The price for such comfort was to play the part of Kylo's willing lover. To tease and flirt with him the best she could. To make him feel loved. Nerves wriggle in Rey's stomach.
She hates what she was reduced to and tries to convince herself how vital her role was. Trying to reframe her time with Kylo as: could have been worse, at least I wasn't in a cell, at least I'm alive, treads dangerously close to denying reality, to compartmentalizing her emotions until she doesn't feel them anymore. She needs to stop falling into that cognitive trap. It does her no good.
She thinks back to Rose.
Rose doesn't have superhuman strength or potent Force abilities. She can't read minds or move objects without touching them. She's the last person Kylo would expect to strike a fatal blow against the First Order, and she did it backed by sheer brainpower and raw courage.
Rose deserves all of the accolades that will be bestowed upon her.
Rey could have pushed harder and insisted on seeing Rose before leaving - it's what she should have done. It is leaving that has her mind wholly preoccupied. Rey sighs as she follows the soldiers onto a turbolift. She's tired.
Rey reminds herself that this isn't forever. She's not being exiled, and everything in life is temporary. This path is her choice. No one is forcing her out of the Resistance, but she can read a room. Or rather, a hangar. It's time to remove herself from the galactic spotlight as much as possible.
She's simply taking a step back to get her life together, to have this baby on the planet Domah. Out of all the options she discussed with Leia this one seemed the most practical.
Living on Domah is not a prison sentence. There will be nothing to prevent her from leaving, or her friends from visiting. A program through the Resistance is helping to settle her into her new homeworld, she won't be without help or resources.
Even so, it hasn't quite sunk in that she is rebuilding her life.
After fleeing Jakku her life took on a new meaning and purpose with the Resistance. In the company of her found family she became a part of something bigger. She found belonging and looked towards the future with hope. A future that did not include becoming a mother at twenty-two, and Force help her, she knows nothing about babies. On Jakku, pregnancy and additional mouths to feed were a death sentence. Childbirth was deadly, with more women dying from infection and neglect than the act of birth itself.
Rey shudders at the thought, grateful that the Resistance has a safety net through their allies for members like her. They're trying to give her compensation fit for a hero, though the label makes her squirm. She's only done her duty to restore peace and equality to the galaxy. It's what any decent person would do. The Resistance is made of heroes.
This is my decision to leave, she repeats, my choice.
The turbolift takes them down several levels, deep into the belly of the cruiser. When Rey exits she spots the medical frigate in the process of powering up. The ramp is lowered and a steady stream of people check in with an officer before boarding. Some of the passengers are recovering from physical injuries and are helped on board by nurses and aides, while other injuries are not so obvious. But the vacant eyes, the blank faraway stares - Rey recognizes the hell they are reliving in their minds, the toll war has taken on them. They have served more than their share of tours with the Resistance.
It is also her first time mingling amongst a crowd of people who aren't Kylo Ren or the First Order.
It's slightly nerve wracking.
Rey squints and her lips press together as she tries to remember what the Resistance - what the galaxy - knows about her and Kylo Ren.
She thinks back to a time when her abdomen was much smaller, when she confessed and recorded everything into the archives in Leia's office. She tried to be as honest and factual as possible. She was explicit and clear that this baby was conceived through a consensual act - that she indeed, did want Kylo Ren. Or rather, Ben Solo.
It's a distinction that might not mean much to the public. The public doesn't care how the baby got here, just that he exists at all. But it matters to Rey. Should her son ever listen to or read the recordings, she wants him to know that for at least one night his parents loved each other the way people are supposed to.
When it comes to her strange bond with Kylo, she has no idea how the galaxy perceives their mysterious link. That is, if they even care. For some it might be too bizarre, too mythological.
Hard facts are what matter in war, and the fact is that Rey once nurtured a secret relationship with Kylo Ren. Her personal feelings overrode all logic and reason as she waited for the man she glimpsed on Ahch-To to return. At the time it hadn't felt so impossible.
Leia had held onto hope that Ben would return, didn't she?
The general had told Rey as much after the Battle of Crait. Another hard lump forms in her throat at the memory. Luke also believed Ben wasn't truly gone, sparking hope in Leia until he drew his last breath.
How wrong they all were. The consequences of loving Kylo have proven to be devastating.
Stupid, stupid, Rey thinks, how could you throw yourself at him so easily?
She hopes this blow against the First Order reminds the Resistance where her allegiances lie and always have. In the same vein of hoping, she prays that the Resistance never finds out that she chose to let Kylo live. It was a conscious choice, and she owns it. Her strike was debilitating but not lethal, and many would mistake it for the wrong kind of sympathy. Leia is the only other person who knows. For now.
Rey wavers between regret that she did not kill him, and gratitude that she did not stray too deep into the Dark side.
Everyone has darkness within them, and Rey knows the attraction of the Dark. The temptation. The temptation to give into anger and impulse, to forbidden, selfish desires.
The Dark is defined by selfishness.
She knows the temptation of fisting her hands through thick dark hair as she looks into even darker eyes illuminated by firelight. She knows what comes from giving into the dark, from being filled by it.
Rey tenderly cradles her arms around her belly.
In the end she did not give into hateful vengeance. The Jedi texts she took from Ahch-To warned about giving into hate and revenge.
A lot of good that philosophy did the Jedi , she thinks, digging deeper into her bitterness. Maybe being the bigger person is not all it's cracked up to be. Maybe all it does is prevent victims from rightfully defending themselves. Is that how she is supposed to feel right now? Righteous? Noble? Spiritually evolved because she did not murder her son's father?
He's mad. Insane. He is going to come for them again.
And damn him - nothing seems to keep Kylo down for long. Cutting him open was merciless, yet he bounced back through their bond like it was nothing. Snarling and snapping commands at her like some kind of alpha loth wolf and expecting her to obey.
His delusion knows no bounds.
She had counted on his injury buying her a little more time. The only silver lining, if there is such a thing, was watching his surprise at seeing Leia. Watching him become intimidated and dwarfed by her presence. Ashamed, even.
That was satisfying.
It is hard to comprehend that a few hours ago she was signing her name on a marriage license to Kylo Ren. That he was genuinely shocked by her sabotage.
Rey tries to shake the sensation of his lips on hers as a few of the officers guiding her fall back and she is left with one escort. The officer flashes a badge and that's all the access she needs to board the frigate. They bypass the line and Rey enters, finding the inside layout organized amidst the chaos of war outside.
"Your contact will accompany you to your destination and assist you through the process of getting settled."
It sounds like he's given this speech before.
He guides Rey down a corridor and signals for her to enter into a room. Rows of seats line the walls and Rey notices individuals wearing uniforms helping people into the chairs and chatting intently with the passengers. One uniformed woman spots Rey and her eyes light up with recognition as she crosses the room. Her gaze flickers from Rey to the officer.
"Officer Craine," the woman says, "and Rey. Please call me Quinn. It's nice to finally meet you. I think you will enjoy life on Domah. Our model for integration into civilian life thrives there."
Rey shakes her hand and offers a polite nod. Officer Craine bows out of the conversation, his duty done, and Rey is left alone with Quinn.
"Do you have any questions?" Quinn asks, her tone sincere as Rey sits down.
Questions? Rey has thousands of them.
"I'd like to know what's going on out there," Rey lengthens the straps attached to the chair to fit around her body, "If the Resistance is pulling ahead and what state the First Order is in." She tucks her satchel carefully beneath her seat and waits for an answer.
Quinn's smile falters.
"Most of the First Order has retreated to the planets they occupy - though some of them are continuing to fight. We've had a few troopers defect but that happens every so often."
"And Kylo Ren? Any news of him?" Rey asks, unable to bury her curiosity about what the public knows. She is only vaguely aware of the frigate leaving the hangar and the muffled announcement broadcasting their departure.
"I haven't heard anything. I expect General Organa will keep you updated. Your datapad - may I?" Quinn inclines her head towards the ground. Rey shrugs.
"Sure."
Quinn discreetly reaches inside of the satchel, removes the datapad and flips it open. She scoots closer to share the screen with Rey.
"Domah is one of our most desired worlds for resettlement, and you'll be living in a housing community with other Resistance members. You have access to all of our services. Employment, a subsidy to get you on your feet -"
"Oh no," Rey is quick to correct her, "I don't need free credits if that's what you mean. I'll be working. I discussed it with General Organa. I'm going to translate languages that will be encoded into droids. I can work on the codes too, it's something I did -"
On Jakku, when you were a dirty scavenger. Scraping around for old simulators, desperate to hear any voice that wasn't yours or Unkars'.
"It's something I like doing," she finishes, shaking away the belittling thoughts. Rey appreciates generosity, but handouts? That's hard to digest. She's always worked hard and wants to earn her keep. Wants to prove she's worthwhile.
"Yes," Quinn agrees slowly, "But then you'll have the baby, and -"
"And I'll work when the baby sleeps."
Quinn gives her a kind but sympathetic smile. Rey sits straighter and squares her shoulders.
"Look, I know babies don't sleep much," she sighs, "But I can't just -" she lets out a small exasperated noise, not sure how to articulate the feeling in her chest, "I'll need to learn how to balance having a child and working eventually."
"That's why you need to take advantage of our services," Quinn pratters on eagerly, shoving the datapad under Rey's nose.
Well she doesn't shove it - but Rey feels like the conversation is becoming rapidly intrusive.
"The birth and postpartum classes are excellent. General Organa spearheaded initiatives for quality healthcare on all free planets. I can sign you up - there are plenty of spaces available."
Rey stares at the datapad like it's a moraband serpent.
Birth classes.
The prenatal care she recieved from a real doctor already felt like a privilege. But classes? Isn't that going a bit overboard? Rey has a hard time understanding the necessity of it. She will read books and watch holos about the gritty parts of birth. And her doctor, when she finds a new one, will help her along the way.
Why subject herself to a room full of strangers who will undoubtedly judge her? Why sit alone in a class with happy couples surrounding her?
"I'll -" Rey is about to reject the idea but the expression on Quinn's face is so well meaning, so unaffected and honest that she softens her answer, "I'll consider it. I'm not used to sharing the most private areas of my life with strangers."
It feels nice to share her thoughts without fear of being hurt, ridiculed, or manipulated.
"Of course," Quinn closes the datapad, and her voice drops, "Rey, if I may be candid for a moment - "
Oh, great.
"You have every right to be cautious, but I hope you aren't punishing yourself because the father is Kylo Ren."
Blunt. To the point. Rey bristles uncomfortably in her seat.
What is she, a head doctor in addition to being a resettlement aide?
But like Leia, Quinn's face is free of judgment as she speaks.
"You are allowed to enjoy your pregnancy and motherhood. Don't let guilt or gossip take that away from you. I want to help you move forward. Now," Quinn places the datapad in the satchel, "We don't have to talk about him anymore. Not unless you want to."
Rey thinks Quinn is a person who is very good at her job.
Not just because she is empathetic, but because when Rey peeks through the sliver of a window she sees nothing but the blur of stars as they tear through hyperspace. No x-wings, no TIE fighters, no turrets of fire are visible. Quinn successfully kept Rey occupied as they made a harrowing departure.
The sights and sounds of war are far behind them.
When the ship begins its planetfall, Rey looks out the window for a glimpse of her new home. Her mood lifts. Marginally.
There's an ocean.
And it's not the wild, turbulent dark water found on Ahch-To, though she's under no misconception that the ocean below is peaceful at all times. But there are people swimming in the water, playing in it, and Rey is in awe of such a carefree lifestyle.
The coastline curves gracefully, the golden sand making a thick band between the waves and the city beyond. It isn't a large city in the traditional sense: there are no towering skyscrapers, no congested pod-lanes.
The small city is backed by chaparral covered mountains that rise quickly in the north and drop dramatically to the south. Rey can't believe the town is nestled between the water and mountains. She wonders what the catch is. There always is one.
The frigate touches down gracefully on the landing pad, and Rey disembarks with Quinn. The air smells crisp and fresh. It's invigorating.
They cross a short bridge to the shuttles waiting to take them to their housing, and Rey soaks in as much as she can.
She notices how clean the town is. How even the eclectic mixture of buildings seem to compliment one another, how lush and green the foliage is. As far as her eye can tell, the gardens decorating the town are well taken care of. Unlike anything she's ever seen.
What is this place?
Technology seamlessly blends in and she picks up on something else - how diverse the population appears to be. There are plenty of non-humans, something noticeably absent from the First Order's highest ranks.
This is a wealthy town. A place of luxury. Leia mentioned Domah was allied with the Resistance, and Rey now understands allied means credits. Funding.
Funding in exchange for what?
The politics and negotiations of war that take place during extravagant parties, over drinks made with exotic and rare substances are lost on Rey. Plenty of things are beautiful on the outside and rotten on the inside, and Rey wonders why the rich would invest in the Resistance over the First Order.
She wonders when she became such a cynic.
What is wrong with you. Get it together. You know nothing about this planet. Trust Leia.
Of course Leia would send her to a safe, pleasant world. No matter how impartial Leia is supposed to be as a general when making decisions, the fact remains that Rey is carrying her grandson. Leia would never send them to an even remotely dangerous planet.
Hell - why would the Resistance send any of their veterans to a dangerous planet?
Especially since Leia could sense that Rey wants to keep the baby. No Force bond needed. Leia has decades of experience reading people, and she is a mother. Rey's decision was written all over her face, impossible to mask.
"This way, Rey," Quinn calls, "we aren't far from your neighborhood. We will take the next shuttle."
Rey boards the shuttle along with other members of the Resistance. The craft weaves through a labyrinth of streets, bustling with open air markets, food vendors, and shops selling fine wares. The atmosphere isn't quite as snobbish as she expected it to be. Wealth isn't flaunted in a dramatic or garish way, but it is there. Rey sees it in the shining crafts and pods that occasionally pass them, in the beautiful architecture of the buildings. Vines blooming with flowers climb the walls, and Rey imagines they smell just as lovely as they look.
This is a city made of old money. Of wealth passed down for generations.
She notices the lack of poverty and those who would be deemed the lower class. Do they not allow the impoverished to reside here? Do the rich hide their servants, or is everything taken care of by droids? Are droids respected here?
It's a dark line of thought and suspicion clouds her opinion of Domah.
The shuttle hangs suspended in mid-air before landing, and the ramp lowers. All the passengers depart, and Rey stays close to Quinn. Rey follows her along a tree lined path as the other passengers and their guides disperse in different directions.
"I thought you said Resistance members stayed in a community?"
Rey envisioned identical houses locked behind a gate, not a quiet residential neighborhood.
"This part of the city has been zoned for special housing, but our goal is for you to feel as integrated as possible. We tried to stay away from anything that felt institutional," Quinn explains.
"Not like outsiders," Rey mutters as their steps slow in front of a modest but well-kept house with whitewashed walls and a red tile roof. The yard is quaint and resembles a miniature meadow sprinkled with yellow, pink, and red flowers. After decades of living on a dusty planet, Rey is forever mesmerized by vibrant colors.
"Exactly. This is the home you've been assigned to," Quinn says, "your identification card should grant you access."
Rey is unexpectedly relieved that her dwelling is small. It doesn't take much for a space to feel too big, too overwhelming and too lonely. A breath of warm wind blows through her hair as she makes her way to the door, her brain hardly processing that the front yard has fruit trees. Food out in the open that you can just pick.
Unreal.
"There's a yard in the back as well," Quinn adds, picking up on Rey's amazement, "it is gated and has plenty of space for a garden. I'm sure you'll find it a satisfactory place to raise your baby."
"Right," Rey digs in her satchel for her ID card, her mind a bit numb with shock that for a time, this place is hers. This is the place she will bring her baby home to.
He's not going to be raised on a First Order Flagship or Rhelg, and he isn't going to be brought home to a rusting AT-AT on Jakku.
She waves her ID card in front of the scanner and the door slides open. A short hallway opens up into a generous living space. The inside is just as spotless as the outside, and Rey cranes her neck to see a well-stocked kitchen on her left. Down a second hall she finds the fresher and smaller room - perhaps an office or storage space?
Rey plans on keeping the baby in her bedroom for as long as possible.
Quinn beckons for her to keep exploring, and Rey's heart thuds as she enters the largest bedroom. There's a crib, a pile of baby clothes, and a few other newborn necessities thoughtfully placed around the room. She opens a closet and finds essentials meant for her - dresses, shoes, coats and scarves.
It's too much.
Emotions and hormones combine into something overwhelming. It's more than Rey would ever dream of asking for herself. This is more than Quinn's organization preparing a home for an expectant member of the Resistance.
Leia went out of her way to make this happen. This is the doting love of a grandmother to be.
Quinn assures Rey that she will return to assist in familiarizing her with Domah, but Rey's mind tunes in and out of focus. She is overcome with the need to be alone, to process all of this.
"You'll be alright for the night?" Quinn asks, sensing that it's time for her to leave.
"I will," Rey feels the corners of her mouth tug upward into a real smile, "thank you so much. For everything."
Rey spends the next hour trying to care for herself. A hot shower feels soothing on her skin: the heat is restorative to her muscles, it refreshes her mind and helps quell her ever-fluctuating emotions. She weaves her wet hair into a braid and puts on one of the dresses from the closet.
It's unbearably maternal, large and billowing, but she doesn't mind.
She steps out onto the small balcony that's connected to her room, wanting to take in the sunset.
Without warning Rey discerns a shift in the Force. Like a lightning bolt, Kylo tries to crash into her consciousness.
Through their bond Kylo's voice calls out her name, pleads with her, and the harder she shakes him out, the louder he gets. Rey stands on her balcony, watching the twinkle of lights brighten in the town below as the sun lowers. She tries to center herself and separate her mind from Kylo as a warm wind caresses her face.
She knows what he's trying to do.
After he is frightening and violent, the deceptively gentle, guilt-ridden Kylo Ren follows. The Kylo who murmurs that Rey is too good for him, that he doesn't deserve her. Sweet promises flow like wine from his mouth as he vows to change, that he will become a better man for her and the baby. Rey sighs in disgust at how much he enjoys wallowing in his guilt until he feels absolved of his wrongdoings.
She resents having to clean up the damage his cruel words and actions might have. Her son will know the truth about his father, but there are lines Kylo never should have crossed. As reprehensible as he's been, she doesn't want her son to think his father wanted him dead. That his father would kill his infant son. Rey can barely stomach the fact that her parents sold her for a drink. She can't imagine learning that a parent cared so little for your life that they'd kill you on a whim.
It isn't the start in life she wants for her son. She is afraid Kylo's hateful words will impact the baby's psyche, his emotional state. Hot tears trickle down her face, tears that had stopped hours ago. Damn them for returning.
"Your father didn't mean it. He's just - very unwell," she's crying as she speaks, knowing how delusional and crazy she sounds. She would die from humiliation if Rose or Leia heard any of this.
Apologizing for him makes her queasy. How will her son believe her words if she doesn't? Kylo could have killed them both. He still might. This whole parenting thing...maybe Quinn was right. Maybe real, professional help isn't a bad idea.
Because she is afraid of not knowing how to parent. Rey doesn't know the precise circumstances she was sold under, or why. Just that her parents were junkies as Kylo so tactfully put it. Her earliest memories are the pungent smells of alcohol and yelling, objects slamming and breaking. There were a million better aliens to leave a child with than Unkar-Plutt, and Rey wonders how drunk her parents were when she was sold.
Motherhood is a complete unknown, and Rey's examples of healthy parenthood are few-and-far between. Kylo was born with everything and he still hates his parents.
What if she can't cope with a baby? What if she buckles under the pressure and turns to destructive measures like her parents?
She's worried the baby she's grown so attached to in her belly will feel like a different baby once he's born. The instant, over-the-moon-in-love bond she's heard about might not come. What if she feels nothing towards her son, or animosity and regret? Instead of seeing her baby, what if all she sees is Kylo Ren?
Rey flips open her datapad and finds the site Quinn showed her. She signs up for the birth and postpartum class without giving it another thought and tries not to let her fear spiral out of control. Taking action helps alleviate some of her doubts, and she accepts that life will be nothing like it was before.
Rey closes her eyes and feels the last of the sun's rays on her face. She opens them to a gradient of pink and violent coloring the sky as stars emerge to create a glittering twilight. She inhales in a deep breath, smelling the salt air in the wind, and turns to meander back into her bedroom. Her home.
Rey wonders when it will start to feel like home.
She sighs and sets down the datapad. The screen lights up and her breath hitches - it's a message from Finn, and she can't - she just can't believe it. It's been so long, and she never had the chance to talk with Finn about everything in person.
Rey knows if she opens his message now she will stay up all night writing to him, asking about Poe and the proposal, lamenting Kylo Ren - all of it. Late night conversations with Finn are something she really misses, and her eyes grow misty at his thoughtfulness. She doesn't feel forgotten by her friends, and perhaps they aren't angry with her. Whatever chasm that has widened between her and the Resistance does not extend to her closest friendships.
She clamps down on the bond, worried that Kylo will try to break through again. Knowing he will.
That damn bond.
On Ahch-To she came to think of it as a gift, but it's become an ugly, convoluted thing: the bond is a curse. It makes Kylo inescapable, and she will have to face him.
When he does make an appearance, all she can do is ignore him. Just focus on locking him out, refuse to engage him, don't provoke him.
Rey is embarrassed to admit she's scared of him, but she is.
Don't let him mess with your head. He's not worth the energy. You got away, and you're never going back. You've beaten him countless times - don't forget that. He should be afraid of you.
The self-talk reels her in, and Rey stops by the kitchen to brew a cup of tea. The ritual helps iron out her nerves and she breathes in the aroma of her drink, the scent floral and soothing. Warmth spreads throughout her body and tranquility settles over her. Leia and Quinn are looking out for her, Kylo is out of her head, and her friends haven't abandoned her.
She feels much better. Grounded.
Back in her bedroom, Rey takes out a notebook and makes her way to a huge chair. Writing with a pen is a bit dated, but the tactile nature of it feels good. She piles blankets and pillows onto the huge chair and sinks into the large, puffy cushions. She doodles pictures of her friends, of the worlds she has seen. She jots down her wishes for her birth, and tries to think of a name for her son. It's harder than she expected.
Rey sips her tea and dreams of oceans, of friends and mostly - a better future.
Kylo's shuttle ploughs through piles of snow, creating enormous walls of ice and sleet. Any landing pad that was prepared is covered in freezing white powder, the brightness of it blinding after the darkness of space. The ship grinds to a halt and with the Force as his aid, he violently kicks open the hatch and storms outside.
The fortress towers high above him on the crest of a hill, magnificent and foreboding. Grey stone juts out of the land, unapologetic and crude, the once smooth rock pitted and scarred. A chilly frost bites at his wound and he pulls his cloak tighter around his shoulders.
For a fleeting moment Kylo forgets everything as he senses the corrupt power of the planet. Lord Kressh's fortress is more ancient than any bone left in the soil, and hatred has poured into this place. Kylo is in his element.
A strong wind gusts down the steep slope and Kylo stumbles, light headed as he forges a path to the fortress. Blackness darts before his eyes as small figures appear, growing larger as they advance on speeders.
His devoted followers. Zealous believers in the Force.
Even better - they are afraid of it.
A man clad in a thick outer layer skids to a stop, panting and gasping for breath as he jumps off the speeder. He barely recovers by the time he reaches Kylo, sputtering and huffing.
"Supreme Leader, we are glad for your arrival. The First Order is scattered and in dire need of your guidance. It still has a stronghold on planets in the -"
Kylo Force slams him out of the way. The First Order is over.
It is time for a new galactic power.
"Get me to the medbay." Kylo bellows as his followers arrive, climbing on the newly available speeder. He needs Veduta to stitch him back together so he can move on to more important things.
There is much to address on Rhelg, but Rey is the most time-sensitive priority. He needs to make sure his mother isn't harassing his wife, isn't pressuring her to give up the baby. Organa works quickly and Kylo is sure she is trying to whisk Rey off to some obscure planet to give birth.
Rey is strong, but he isn't sure she is strong enough to withstand the willpower of his tenacious mother. Organa has poor maternal instincts, and she has no business giving parenting or relationship advice.
That's part of the problem, Kylo thinks. Organa has turned Rey against him. Rey has been deluded by his mother's ideals. Brainwashed by her misplaced admiration for Han Solo - a man who set a terrible example for fatherhood. Rey can't see the truth: General Organa and Han Solo are perfect examples of how wrong a relationship can go when you defy the natural order of things. Han Solo, deadbeat father and lackluster husband. Forcing Organa to work to the bone and pushing her into political roles when she should have been mothering - and not leaving her two year old alone with a murderous droid.
Not whispering with Han Solo about her fears that Ben was too sensitive, too strong with the Force, that he might become a monster. Ben eavesdropping outside the bedroom door, just a child, confused and hurt.
Kylo turns too sharply and nearly flips the speeder as he imagines Rey alone and overwhelmed with a baby. He imagines her working long hours, barely able to find time to bond with their son as she reverts to her scavenger tendencies.
Horror of all horrors - he imagines her leaving their son alone with a droid as history repeats itself.
Organa's solution to this is to tear the baby from Rey's arms. If he doesn't accidentally kill Rey, that will.
The thought that he might kill her tempers his speed. He blames it on Rhelg's dark energy, on the emotional turmoil raging inside of him.
Killing Rey. It's never going to happen.
He struggles to contact Rey through their bond, he pleads with her to answer him. She's the mother of his child and the woman who understands him better than anyone else. And she needs him to protect her.
The bond is sealed shut, impenetrable, and Kylo can't summon the strength to force it open.
In fact, Kylo finds it hard to catch his breath at such a high altitude, and he heaves himself to the ground when he reaches the massive fortress gate. He commands his feet to move but his vision splinters, he sways too far and suddenly finds himself face down in the sleet.
The last thing he hears is the rush of boots crunching through ice before everything goes dark.
Flashes of light through darkness, strangled screams and faint voices. Kylo's eyelids twitch and flutter before they open. The nightmarish sounds fade, and he feels himself returning to his body. His blurred vision clears and Kylo finds himself staring at a stone ceiling. The smell of chemicals waft through his nose and he tries to sit up, finding that he cannot. He's strapped down.
A face distorted by a mask comes into view, hovering over him.
Doctor Veduta.
"V-34, more pain serum. Thought we had administered enough..." she doesn't finish as a droid sticks a needle into Kylo's shoulder.
His entire being feels as if it's on fire.
Lying flat on the operating table Kylo is at the mercy of his own mind, of his memories. He is here because Rey carved through his body with a lightsaber after he had barely processed her devious betrayal. He tries to ignore how much worse the pain in his heart is compared to the dull burning sensation in his side.
Unfortunately, it is not possible. She consumes his thoughts.
Kylo remembers when Rey agreed to meet him in the forest. Not through the Force, but the two of them in the same physical space. Meeting under a temporary truce, one that Kylo hoped would become permanent.
It stings to remember the potential of his plan. How he fumbled and fucked it all up. His pride hates the assault of memories that follow, but he is powerless to stop them.
He remembers.
"This is insane. I shouldn't agree to any of this without your mother's -"
"Blessing?" He interjects, circling her. The word drips with bitter sarcasm.
Rey holds his gaze, the muscles in her lithe arms strained as she grips her lightsaber. Of the two of them, she is the only one with an ignited lightsaber. Kylo's cross saber swings from his belt as they appraise each other through their bond. She is captivating even in the midst of arguing. Especially when they argue, he thinks.
"Does my mother know about our bond? Does she know we've been communicating daily for the better part of a year?"
Rey's chest swells.
"No," her answer is nearly lost in a whisper, the circle between them shrinking as they close in on each other. He is near enough to see the light peppering of freckles on her lovely face, and he leans in closer.
Rey doesn't flinch. She tries to bolster her height by angling her shoulders back and gazes up at him.
"Until I see evidence of real change, I see no reason to tell her about us."
About us.
Kylo wonders if Rey knows how that sounds. If she realizes she is rationalizing treasonous behavior. If she's enjoying their dark little secret and covert encounters as much as he is. Kylo's playing a dangerous game with her feelings and trust. This gamble will either yield everything he wants or be the end of him.
Her eyes scrutinize him briefly before she speaks, and he can feel her warm breath on his neck.
"If I agree to this - to meeting in person - no one can know. No one, Kylo. Leia doesn't need to get her hopes up that you're…" her voice trails off.
Kylo knows exactly what Rey wants to say. Over the past year he's conveyed his disillusion with the First Order. His unhappiness and complete dissatisfaction with ruling a galaxy that's never done him any favors.
He is never running back to his mother with his tail between his legs. Rey is right not to give Organa false hope. But General Organa cannot fathom what is about to hit her. His mother has no idea that her new golden child, his replacement, is smitten with her monster of a son.
All the more reason it will kill her when Rey decides to join him. Organa will be forced to face her failures. No more excuses, no more hiding behind politics and bureaucracy. There will be no denying her dark heritage as Darth Vader's daughter.
Kylo chuckles to himself, a low and rumbling sound. The women in his life have a terrible habit of choosing bad men.
And Rey is unaware of his real agenda. She dares to hope that he's returning to the Light because that is what she wants to believe. That's the promise he has been pouring into their bond for months.
That, and she must sense Kylo's love for her.
Rey's request to tell no one about their meeting is fine. It's more than fine. It works to his advantage. Maybe he ought to feel insulted that she wants to hide their bond, but it's impossible to draw on self-pity right now. He basks in knowing that she'll risk everything if it means him returning to the Light, if it means she can be with him.
They've done this dance before when she shipped herself to Snoke's flagship, but this time she will see reason. She will understand and accept that it is Kylo Ren she wants.
Kylo realizes that neither of them has spoken for a while and he clears his throat.
"I have more to lose than you do, Rey. Your Resistance friends would believe you if you told them I used the Force to trick you into meeting. They would believe anything. The First Order is not so forgiving."
Or naive.
Her Resistance friends are also idiots, but Kylo doesn't say that.
How can she claim them as family when they don't know who she truly is? Rey is terrified of abandonment, she thinks she needs to be perfect for her so-called family. The pressure she places on herself to live up to Luke Skywalker's legacy and his mother's standards is impossible to sustain. Kylo's already lived through that hell.
For a second Rey looks outraged by his easy dismissal of any challenges she may run up against. She looks as if she's about to reply something scathing and horrid, so Kylo beats her to it and says,"No one would suspect you of meeting with me. They think we hate each other. Remember?"
Rey's eyes widen and her saber deactivates.
"Don't we?"
Kylo can't decipher if that's an attempt at humor or if she's being smart with him. It rouses something primal in him, and he pushes forward, not letting her deflect the seriousness of his question. He lightly brushes against her, his own body built like a wild animal. His chest hard and sculpted, biceps cords of unrelenting strength. Lengthy, muscular legs built to outpace her. She is a prey worthy of his pursuits, and Kylo envelops her in his personal space as his lips ghost her face.
"You know how I feel."
Rey stands still, unmoved and composed.
"I do."
"So then you'll send me your coordinates. And we will meet."
The question hangs in the air for a moment. Kylo watches as her brow knits together and her lips purse into a scowl. An expression he's seen countless times. She is weighing the consequences of the situation, debating what is at stake, and then she answers.
"Yes."
For a minute Kylo's mind is electrified with shock and he can't think straight. He can't think at all. His body goes numb and his heart pounds as his chest grows tight. On some level she trusts him.
He manages to say something - maybe it's her name he strangles out, and he realizes the impossible is about to become inevitable. She wants to see him.
Kylo can sense her formulating the conditions and terms they will meet under, but right as her lips part his mouth comes crashing down on hers. Both of them are unprepared as the Force blazes hot and intense through their bond. Positively molten.
He glides his hands down her sides, over her hips, around her waist. Her hands betray her and fist the nape of his tunic, pulling him closer. Their breathing grows labored as lips and teeth tangle frantically, tasting, exploring - and then she breaks the kiss, shaking her head.
"This isn't right."
"Trust me," he strokes her hair and presses a kiss to her temple,"You won't regret this."
Rey closes her fingers around his wrist and removes his hand, ceasing his caress. He looks from her kiss-stung lips to her gleaming eyes.
"We'll see."
Kylo suddenly finds himself alone in his quarters. Her scent lingers in the air, and his gaze turns into something dark and focused. He sucks in a slow breath, his body taut with tension.
Temptress, he thinks. The way she teases and leads him on is wicked. She's dangling what he wants right in front of him, enchanting him, leaving him hungry and hard. Hiding behind a front of virtue, of superior morality.
Kylo sees past her facade.
She wants it as badly as he does. He is going to be the first to taste her, to mount her. All of the energy they put into fighting will be channeled into something more productive.
More pleasurable.
The ache of longing to be with her throbs through the very marrow of his bones. It drives him to the brink of insanity.
Patience. He can wait a little longer.
And then, a few hours later she sends him her coordinates. Kylo almost smiles. Rey is torn between her feelings for him and her loyalty to the Resistance, and she is choosing him.
Kylo knew she would do as he asked. She secretly loves it when he takes control. It is natural for her to turn to someone older and more experienced to make hard choices so she doesn't have to. She wants a powerful man by her side.
He smirks.
Rey may have convinced herself that she wants Ben Solo, but she sure doesn't mind kissing Kylo Ren.
He contacts Krog through his comlink and informs the general that he is planning a highly sensitive mission. Information will be released on a need to know basis.
Kylo hasn't felt this sure of a plan - or himself - in a long time.
He remembers all of it as he lies on the operating table.
He remembers her pained expression mixed with hopeful anticipation as he alluded to becoming Ben Solo. All of the emotions she'd left untouched broke and flooded the Force in a torrential downpour.
And he was ready.
He remembers Rey's kindness, her slight hesitation, and then her surrender. He remembers heavy kisses and sweaty skin; the way she flushed at her obvious arousal before he even touched her. Her body was wet and welcoming as he pressed inside her, as he rightly claimed her as his. They fit perfectly in every way, their connection undeniable as they finally succumbed to what they had both wanted for so long.
She turned into a whimpering sticky mess beneath him, her own body stretching to accommodate him, her fingers clawing at his shoulders, pulling at his hair. They clung to each other desperately, each afraid the other would slip away if they dared to let go.
And he made her sing .
The best part came afterwards. When she curled against his chest, when she refused to move from his embrace. She was happy.
Kylo can't recall the last time he made anyone feel happy.
Their union was more than just sex to Kylo. It was the joining of their bodies, two physically becoming one, in the same way that they are two halves of one whole within the Force. She asked him not to come inside but he did - and he remembers pleading with the Force to create a child.
It is no small wonder that a beautiful miracle happens that night, that Rey conceives his child. His seed takes root in her womb and he watches as her once solid core stretches into something round and protruding, her breasts swell, and a new fullness softens her face.
He shouldn't have preferences about her body, but this is his favorite version of her.
Kylo believes Rey would have become pregnant even if they had taken contraceptive measures. There is too much energy between them, too much life vibrating within their bond for it not to happen.
When he discovers the baby is a boy, his world stops. He couldn't be more proud that she is bearing him a son.
A son he's threatened to kill.
Sorrow and pain and self disgust create a sickening mixture in the pit of Kylo's stomach. An old fear begins to unravel, one he doesn't want to face, but he is powerless to stop it. He fears his unborn son has heard his threat and has turned against him.
A voice that holds a soft edge of authority emerges in his mind, becoming louder until Kylo is forced to listen to the words his son spoke in the cave on Ahch-To.
"You're alone, father. You always will be. She kept me safe from you. I feel what she feels. I feel the pain and heartache you inflict on her. Now it is my turn to protect her. You will never have us."
Angst overwhelms him. The gears in his brain begin to turn, stuttering and twisting with the effort of piecing together the harsh reality that he is fulfilling the horrifying vision. Kylo fights against the depression, the pain. He tries to put a stop to this indulgent cycle of self flagellation.
He can change the course of the vision - the future is malleable.
Kylo's love for Rey is far greater than the trials they have suffered through. Their love is stronger than his deplorable behavior, than his cruelty. In his bones he knows what they have is soul-searing, unbreakable, true love.
She just wants him to stop hurting her.
And he is going to stop hurting her. He will master ironclad self-control and restraint. He will learn to keep the violence from entering his words when she provokes his anger. Aggression and coercion work short term with Rey, and he needs results that will last forever.
The Dark side of the Force will guide him. It knew what it was doing when it bonded them, and he needs to approach this intentionally.
There used to be a perpetual sense of urgency burning inside of him when it came to having Rey, a fear that if he didn't act quickly enough she would slip through his grasp and disappear forever. Now that urgency is replaced with a deep understanding that the Force will never separate them. She is with him, even when they are physically apart.
Though, he should not forget that Rey has an advantage over him. Kylo's love for her blinds him, it turns him into a fool. Rey betrayed him without a hint of him knowing.
Disturbing doesn't begin to describe how well she excelled at distracting him. The lengths she went to. Rey isn't nearly as innocent as she'd like to believe. She enjoyed getting on all fours for him.
She was conniving and calculated. Cunning. She played a long-term game and left him for dead on a burning ship.
Again.
Kylo inhales a ragged breath.
It doesn't matter how much finery he dresses her in, how elegant she looked in her wedding gown. Rey is a scavenger, programmed to survive.
Underneath the doe-eyed expressions and delicate features she remains an untamed, feral thing. She was only on her best behavior because she had to be. It is cruel of the universe to make women beautiful and intelligent.
It isn't right.
Anger flares inside of him. How did Rey expect him to react to her stabbing him in the back? If she was so upset, she should have confronted him directly. She should have pulled him aside and voiced her honest fears.
Kylo would have tried harder. To be better. To be good. He would have.
Instead she fled, taking his battered, crumbling heart with her. Kylo's very essence aches to destroy, to burn everything around him to the ground. Blistering anger spreads, burning through his veins.
He stomps down his rage before it can mutate into anything more dangerous.
He is starting to think Rey might not be so similar to his grandmother, Padme. He is starting to question everything he thought he knew about his maternal grandparents. Rey spoke with such certainty about Anakin Skywalker, with such confidence.
How dare she presume to know how his grandfather would judge him. What could she possibly know about his family that he doesn't?
"Finished," Dr. Veduta's voice is muffled by her surgical mask, "how does everything feel?"
Kylo quiets his mind and comes back to the present, so lost in his internal ranting that he had forgotten Veduta was mending his injury.
Freed from his restraints, Kylo sits up on the table with a harsh huff, stiff from the pain and examines his left side. A thick line of raised red flesh travels from his shoulder and ends mid-thigh. A minor price to pay for his transgressions.
"Mind that you do not overexert yourself. The cut is deep and will take time to heal."
A droid meticulously bandages Kylo while another delivers a pile of neatly folded clothes. Kylo holds up a hand, indicating that he can dress himself. And he does. He pushes past the throbbing pain as he slides into garments meant for this cold planet. Black trousers, an undertunic, and a padded long-sleeved surcoat. The gloves come back on.
Kylo stands as he wraps a hooded cape around his shoulders, finding it ironic that his attire resembles what he was wearing when he abducted Rey on Takodana.
He pulls up boots that will exacerbate the height disparity between them. The sheer physicality of him intimidates Rey, especially in her vulnerable state.
Without the Force she wouldn't stand a chance against him.
He orders everyone out of the medbay and stands with his feet planted wide apart. Rey might not take their marriage vows seriously, but he does. The Force married them long before she legally bound herself to him and he has more than a duty to take care of his wife. It's an obligation.
Kylo ponders the history of their bond. The complexities of it, the inconsistencies and seemingly random patterns. They are unable to harm each other with weapons: he once took a shot to the chest without a scratch. Yet they've been able to touch and fuck. Would the Force protect Rey from his bare hands around her neck? He doesn't think so.
Their surroundings are also fluid. Rey used to appear in his environment and he in hers, but not anymore. Kylo was able to see the room on the Resistance cruiser with General Organa sitting by her side. Previously the only other person to step into their bond was Luke Skywalker.
All four of them: Kylo, Rey, Organa, and Luke are Force sensitive, and that's the only logic he can find in his musing.
What a mess it is to try and find logic in the Force.
As riveting as it is to ponder the will of the Force, he needs to check on Rey. Kylo delves into their bond and finds himself within the flow of the energy that binds them. There is no gravity, no ground, no time. He is tethered by nothing but his connection to her.
There is no resistance as he pushes through, no barrier. Kylo pictures exactly where he wants to be. Who he wants to be with.
And then he arrives.
An unexpected thrill runs through him. He can see Rey's surroundings. Kylo inspects the space with a critical eye. The room is small and for lack of a better word, cozy. The yellow glow of a lamp casts a warm light, and as he steps farther into the room more is revealed. A bed, a dresser, a nondescript painting of a landscape. It's decent.
She must think it is a palace.
He stands in place for a few heartbeats, examining Rey.
She's fallen asleep in a chair, her head cushioned against a pillow. Kylo watches as her chest gently rises and falls. She's styled her hair into one long braid - that's new. He usually doesn't approve of her hair up, but he likes the braid. He still can't get over how enormous her belly is, and for a moment is utterly fascinated that Rey is carrying an entire human being inside of her.
As usual, she is undeniably alluring.
One hand of hers is loosely wrapped around the handle of a cup of what he assumes to be tea.
He knows her preferences.
Steam rises from the mug, and Kylo carefully removes it from her grasp. He inwardly exhales when she doesn't wake, followed by a flash of anger. She's such a danger to herself. Who is going to prevent her from making a clumsy mistake that might result in an injury? A growl builds in his chest.
This is wrong, it's so fucking wrong that she is alone and pregnant and -
Kylo pauses. There is a third energy in the room, another life pulsating through the Force.
His son.
Kylo sinks to one knee and stares at Rey's abdomen, the line between his brow deepening as he concentrates. How conscious is his son? Can he hear and understand what happens between his parents? Perhaps what Kylo is about to do is absurd, but he doesn't care. He is terrified of the vision in the cave.
Kylo closes his eyes and places a gentle hand on her belly.
I won't hurt you. Be good to your mother. Go easy on her. She's been through enough.
A strong kick pushes against his open palm and he draws back, his hand shaking.
It is either a coincidence, or his son has inherited a good dose of that stubborn, self-willed Skywalker blood.
This child will do as he damn well pleases.
At least the kick doesn't wake her, and he lifts a notebook from the side of the chair where it had fallen. It is unusual of her to use paper and pen, but then he had once taken up calligraphy. Kylo should be breaking into the datapad on the nightstand and using it to find her location, but the contents in the notebook demand his attention.
It appears to be some kind of birth plan, a series of unorganized scribbles and half thoughts. The more he reads, the worse it gets.
Non-medicated birth unless necessary. Baby's surname will be Solo. First name? Prefer home environment for birth.
Kylo stops reading. He's going to be sick. The notebook shakes in his hand and rage roars inside of him.
Rey intends to give their son the surname Solo?
The only thing that prevents him from screaming is the realization that Rey is going to keep the baby. Why else give the baby a surname connected to his bloodline? A weak, disgraceful bloodline.
Solo.
His father is undeserving of such a legacy.
Kylo sits in unmoving silence for what felt like an eternity. Once the shock lessens, he can appreciate that Rey is sticking to her convictions. She isn't caving to his mother. He should have had more faith that she would make the right choice. Rey is all about family, about belonging. She would never cast out her own flesh and blood.
Rey stirs, and Kylo makes sure he has a solid grip on their bond. He watches as her eyes open, still heavy with sleep. Then her face pales. With a shriek she leaps from the chair and Kylo senses her confusion, he feels the patter of her heart in his chest.
He is in her home. What should be a safe hidden space is visible to him.
Kylo tosses the notebook onto the chair. This isn't the time for starting new battles when they haven't resolved old ones. He isn't going to bring up the ridiculous notion of giving his son the surname Solo.
Something pinches within their bond, just the barest puncture, and Kylo realizes she is trying to close it. Rey's face is inscrutable and focused before she turns away from him.
Wordlessly, she crosses the room and stands in front of a dresser where a pile of clothes lie in a heap. She lifts up one article of clothing to fold it, and Kylo recognizes it as an infant shirt.
Baby clothes.
And is she….? She is. Rey is trying her damndest to ignore him while busying herself with the clothes.
The clothes do yield a clue - she plans of being here, wherever here is, for a while. She plans on caring for the baby here.
Perspiration trickles down Kylo's spine. He needs to keep his renowned temper in check, but the baby is a ticking time bomb. When is she due again? He should know this. Rey is petite and pregnancy swallows her, making her appear further along than she is - but that baby is coming. In a couple of months a new person will be here: someone who is half Rey and half him.
It's absolutely mind-boggling. Terrifying.
Kylo is thrown by the onslaught of anxiety that floods him when he thinks of fatherhood. It strikes at the most inconvenient of times, so he waits until his pulse doesn't resemble a racing fathier before he advances on Rey.
"I'm glad you're safe," he says, "I was worried you would get caught in the crossfire of the battle."
No response.
"This is like old times, isn't it?" Kylo raises a brow, "When we used to only communicate through the Force. Just the two of us."
She says nothing which irks him. At the very least she could try to contradict him.
"You're angry. About what I said on the flagship."
Kylo is met with cold silence. Rey's lower lip is slightly swollen as she gnaws at it, repressing her impulse to give him a reaction. Kylo takes it as an invitation to keep talking. He can push her into engaging with him. He knows he can.
"I only meant that your plans have failed because you are fighting the will of the Force. A bond like ours is rare - it is special, powerful. The Force doesn't make mistakes, Rey. You know that. We are destined to be together."
Silence. She refuses to look at him.
Again, the Force pinches and shutters around him as she attempts to close it. Kylo fights back, his hold on their bond tight as he focuses on keeping it open.
It is a strange thing, to be able to battle so quietly. Calmly. And Rey is calm. They don't need sabers or hand-to-hand combat to fight. This battle happens within the Force, a struggle for control over their connection.
Rey folds baby clothes as their struggle reaches a deadlock, the slight tremor in her hands the only hint that it is taxing to channel so much energy into severing their bond.
Irritation surges into hot anger when Kylo realizes the baby clothes don't need folding. Rey is refolding them to avoid looking at him. He's here to fucking grovel after she nearly sliced him in half and she pretends he doesn't exist.
The blatant disrespect gnaws at him. Enrages him. Women truly are talented at fanning the flames of conflict without speaking a word.
Kylo knows what he wants to do. He wants to come up from behind and burrow his face in the tender curve of her neck. He wants to twist that braid of hers around his fist and yank her head back so that she is forced to acknowledge him.
Do away with this little display of disobedience altogether.
He won't do any of that, of course. He is practicing self control now. Restraint.
Kylo folds his hands behind his back to prevent any unwanted displays of dominance. He progresses towards her slowly, knowing the real issue he needs to address. The one point of contention that is most likely to get her talking because it hurt her the most.
He stops inches from Rey. His voice, when he speaks, is low and husky.
"I do regret threatening the baby, Rey. Deeply. And I won't beg your forgiveness. I know I am undeserving of you - and him. You were right to protect him the way you did."
Isn't it the perfectly constructed apology? Humble. Respectful. No thinly veiled insults or nasty remarks. He doesn't demand that she forgive him but the implication is there. He doesn't dredge up her own betrayal.
Kylo's hand cautiously trails up her arm until it reaches her shoulder, a gesture that is meant to be comforting.
"I spoke from a place of great pain. You can understand that, can't you?" He asks quietly, one of his fingers tracing a feather-light line down the side of her neck.
Rey stops folding the clothes and turns. She has a relatively calm expression, but her eyes are fierce, hurting and somewhat afraid.
At least she's letting him touch her. That alone is more than mildly surprising. Kylo wishes he weren't wearing gloves; he misses the warmth of her bare skin. But when he spots the beads of sweat gathering on her brow, on her upper lip, he retracts his hand.
Trauma. She's freezing up, as if making any sudden movements will send him into a fit of violent rage.
She isn't wrong.
Control. Restraint. He can do this.
Droplets of water stream down her face and dive off her chin, hitting the floor. Rey's expression shifts from one of fear to fury.
"You're right. It is unforgivable to lie about murdering him. You think our son's life is expendable, something to barter with. You have no idea how precious life is, you don't value it at all."
Without missing a beat, Kylo responds.
"So you still think of him as ours. That's good."
Their bond fractures and blurs for a second, and Kylo senses the weight of sadness and unease in Rey. He doesn't let her escape his gaze, and moves closer. Kylo wants her to see that he means every word.
"I don't want our marriage to be like my parents, Rey. Fighting all the time. Arguments that last for days. And you don't want our son to grow up feeling abandoned by his father. You don't need to do this alone."
Rey blushes a lovely shade of red that reaches the tips of her ears. Abandonment is a sore spot, and Kylo knows it.
"We need to give him the family we never had. The family he deserves. A mother and father. I'll never lay a hand on you again, Rey. It's not something I want our son to witness. Ever."
"Liar," Rey whispers through gritted teeth, and Kylo feels the air knocked out of him. He blinks and finds himself alone in Rhelg's medbay.
He pushes against the invisible barrier she's trying to put between them, tearing it apart with great effort, and blasts through the Force into her room.
She's in a state of distress, the poor thing, and Kylo speaks in a subdued, soothing tone - the best he can muster to stop her from panicking.
"The only lie is the one you're telling yourself, Rey. Deep down, you love me. Otherwise, you would have killed me when you had the chance."
It's the last thing Kylo says before he is thrown off balance and violently slammed out of their bond. Blood beats in his ears and the inside of his tunic feels sticky. Blood or some other bodily fluid oozes from his wound and down his arm. Kylo's lip curls as he springs to his feet.
Fuck.
Rey is stubborn as fuck.
Kylo knows women aren't rational, but pregnant women are in an entirely different league. They are crazy. She's making it awfully difficult for him to remain in control.
Kylo paces as he mulls over the best course of action.
It is too risky to face her again. Better to end their meeting now before one of them lashes out. Rey is many things, but meek is not one of them. She might use feminine tricks to gain his sympathy: tears, the tiny gasping noises she makes when she cries, her almond eyes looking at him through long lashes. All defense mechanisms honed over thousands of years of evolution to soften a predator's attack. But Kylo knows Rey. Behind the tears, she is a real threat.
At least he was able to offer an apology. She knows where he stands.
Now, he has work to do before he visits her again.
Kylo bursts out of the medbay and his followers scatter to clear a path he stalks into the lofty hallway.
"Show me to Kressh's throne room," his commanding tone catches and holds the attention of everyone in the hall. It fills the space between the beams above them, and his followers fall silent as they lead him through a maze of corridors.
Kylo senses the old Sith lair as they near it. He overtakes his followers and lets the Dark side of the Force guide him to his new place of power.
His cape sweeps behind him as he enters the cavernous throne room. The air smells festering and stagnant. Dust swirls as his boots thud across the floor, each step heavier than the last. The Darkness beckons to Kylo, eager and promising, digging into him like sharp hooks, deep and scarring. Painful to take out, near impossible, and for good reason. He's a creature made for darkness. Like a beast starved, the darkness laps at the chance for a new Master to latch onto, to feed upon.
This is an evil place.
Kylo stops in front of the dais and tilts his head upwards: Kressh's throne makes Snoke's chair look like a stool. It makes his former seat of power look pathetic.
This is a throne.
Impressive slabs of obsidian rise from the dais to the ceiling, looming over Kylo. It is not inviting, and the stone is engraved with a language long assumed to be dead. The old tongue. Kylo traces the etchings and stares in awe at the Sith markings.
His grandfather would have been able to read this.
Kylo reverently walks up the ancient steps. Claiming this throne is a great honor. He lowers himself onto a seat that hasn't held a ruler for hundreds of years and waits.
A throne like this won't accept just anyone - he can sense that - but after nothing happens, Kylo relaxes. He braces his gloved hands on the massive stone siding as he takes ownership.
He looks down at the men standing before him, their body language awkward and jittery.
"Go to the armory. Bring me Lord Kressh's weapons. Bring me anything of interest. Send someone competent to update me on the status of the First Order. If any of their ships try to land, blow them out of the sky."
"Yes, Supreme Leader - Sir - Lord Ren..." a man quakes in front of him, unsure of Kylo Ren's title, "but, ah, a few of our men have reported non-stop screaming after entering Lord Kressh's vault."
Kylo leans forward, his dark eyes sinister.
"I gave you an order."
"Yes, Lord Ren."
Kylo lazily drapes one leg over the arm of the throne and leans back. Lord Ren. He doesn't mind the sound of that.
"Will there be anything else, Lord Ren?"
Kylo adjusts to rest his forearms on his knees.
"A comlink. Obtain one and deliver it to me immediately."
He wants to have a word with General Leia Organa.
Please let me know if you'd like Kylo or Rey's POV for chap 42.
Head's up: things get darker but no reylo babies will be harmed.
Thanks again for reading.