Chapter One: Stowaway - Part One

To say that Arra's head throbbed, and throbbed badly, would be an understatement of epic magnitude.

In point blank fact, her head throbbed so badly it was just about all she could think about; it was just about all she could focus on. Huddled in the corner of her impossibly tiny cell with her knees pulled tightly to her torso and her forehead pressed down against them, it was the only thing that existed and the only thing that seemed to matter. Everything else was peripheral. Her surroundings, her situation, the complicated next steps in her not so well planned out endgame. Nothing, not one single, solitary, lonely little thing registered on her radar of importance. Not when the horrible beat drumming against her skull and the blood that thrummed through her eardrums in time were both enough to make the rest of the world around her fade to gray and drive ever-present nausea to a level at which she was only just barely able to keep the pitiful contents of her stomach at bay.

Nothing else seemed to matter, and at a moment in time when everything else should be at the forefront of her mind, such a fact was problematic, to say the least.

But it was done, that was the main thing.

She had done it.

The first hurdle of her so-called master plan had been cleared.

For what it was worth that much, at the very least, was a comfort to her now … As much as it could be anyway.

She had done it. She had made it.

The first bold step in the long chain of steps of which she was so uncertain was now complete. But the first step, the boldest step, was always the easiest of the bunch and this one had been no exception.

To her fortune, the presence of The First Order was every bit as far-reaching as its predecessor; maybe even more so. Old allegiances seldom ever really died, after all. Even in defeat, there were still strong bonds to the old Empire, some in clusters of secrecy and others blatantly out in the open for anyone and everyone to see in the seedier, darker, and more remote stretches of the galaxy. Old bonds made for continued allies and old sympathizers made for new allies. Whether the lost, the misguided, or the broken, not so unlike Arra herself or the steadfast, loyal, and assured, The First Order held influence just as strongly as the Resistance.

Buying the intel she had so needed, bartering for passage to some piece of shit planet in the darkest corner of the galaxy where First Order presence was rampant. Sneaking aboard a transport ship stealthily enough to not be caught in the act but yet not stealthily enough that she would evade being taken into custody. Stirring up a shitstorm in order to bring attention up the chain of command, it had all been so very easy for her; almost unsettlingly so. And whether it was on sheer account of determination, pure dumb luck, or something else that would have less desirable consequences, Arra didn't really know. Thus far, however, fortune had decided to smile upon her.

The first step was always the easiest, and luck had been with her to that point. But there would be nothing easy about what was to come next. And in all likelihood, the fickle bitch that prosperity tended to be had likely blessed her with its good graces just then and only then and had now left her to fend for herself; forcing her to manipulate her way back into good standing and sway the odds to her favor.

… If she could, that is. Arra was in hostile territory now, after all. Nothing was more of a reminder of such a cold hard fact than the claustrophobic confines of her cell and the muted cacophony of strained conversation that echoed softly from beyond its walls. It grew nearer and nearer by the minute, carrying with it what could very likely be her fate sealed by way of swift execution.

If she couldn't tempt Lady Luck to be with her once again and ride shotgun on her shoulder, Arra was as good as dead.

"It was just after departure, sir."

She pulled her still pounding head from her knees, biting back a fresh wave of dizziness and nausea in order to strain her ears as best she could. What once had been mumbles rang clearer just outside her cell and muted nonsense gave way to actual discussion to be deciphered.

"We found her just as transport was departing the Outer Rim. Sure kicked up a shit storm when we did. She's small but she's got the fight of-

"Enough."

A secondary voice interjected. Abrupt and annoyed. Heavily modulated, deep and resonant like the first ominous roar of an unrelenting storm. It was notably familiar and foreboding in its timbre, like something out of a half-forgotten nightmare. She had heard it before more than just a few times in passing once upon a time, what now felt like half a lifetime ago, when she had last set foot within the walls of The Finalizer under such very different circumstances. Burned into her brain in some respect, it was unmistakable. There was no doubt of to whom it belonged.

Kylo Ren.

It was Kylo Ren who they had brought to her to parley, and luck, as it were, had indeed absconded like a thief in the night; leaving Arra to dig herself out of a bigger hole than which she had bargained for.

"Why do you enjoy regaling me with stories of your incompetence?" Ren spat flatly, a note of barely constrained rage detectable just below the surface of a calm, impeccably controlled façade.

"Just-just a report sir … I didn't mean-"

"Useless. And why wasn't I briefed on docking? Why was I made to wait hours before hearing any of this? Why did I have to chase down your division?"

General Hux thought it best if-"

"General Hux should know better by now. Guests of the First Order speak to me and only me. Remind him."

"Sir."

"Better yet … Tell your general I'll remind him of his place the next time he feels fit to stick his nose where it doesn't belong. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir. Understood, sir."

"Good. Open it and wait … I won't need long."

A sharp metallic whir of gears that operated the metal gateway, the only division that parted Arra from him. A quick hiss and a warm breeze as the doors slid back smoothly and he was there before her in all his terrible glory.

He was tall and terrifying. A sight to behold, a nightmare robed in black. A shadow, a specter that stood silent as he regarded the intruder who had dared force herself into his midst before slowly, pointedly moving towards her.

With every foot fall of his heavy boots, Arra pulled into herself and curled back against the wall, trying to sink into it, shrinking under his masked gaze. It wasn't conscious and it wasn't by choice but rather it was by instinct; some strange cold feeling deep in the pit of her being. Some visceral reaction at first sight that made her cower pathetically like a frightened baby animal alone in the wild for the first time; like some poor gutless sap, a shameful, worthless coward. Some visceral reaction at first sight that forced Arra to betray herself and act against everything she was … Or everything she thought she was anyway.

Every heavy boot fall brought him closer to her, and what was already the smallest cell known to man closed in even more around her. One deliberate step after another taking what seemed like an eternity for him to traverse such a finite span between them until at long last, he was stood but a handful of inches away, statuesque, stoic, and still silent as the grave.

Arra could barely muster the will to draw her eyes upwards to meet the void in the middle of the mask that hid his visage so menacingly. The cold, hard, exterior he presented, formidable, unfeeling, and imposing. Like something pulled out of one's deepest fears and brought to life. He stood before here, intimidating, unfeeling, and imposing in a way entirely unique to him and him alone in a way that almost instantly and almost entirely sucked every last molecule of air right out of the room.

There he stood, right in front of her, towering over her, watching her astutely before making the first move; waiting just long enough to break her nerve and set her on edge.

In an instant, the gravity of the situation hit Arra full force and unavoidable; a sucker punch to knock her clean off her feet and send her spinning. It was going to take a lot more than luck. Even with every well-honed skill she had at the ready to wield she would be trumped by him . She was outmatched and outmatched badly. Any course of action and any hint of strategy she may have been able to formulate on the fly was out the window faster than she could blink.

They had brought Kylo Ren to her to parley.

She had thrown herself headlong into the lion's den and now she only stood a fool's chance of climbing back out.

"So, this the stowaway." Ren lowered himself to her eye level, falling back on his haunches to impose a little further through the duration of his interrogation. "This is the girl they tell me put up such a fight."

He cocked his head to the side, searching her, scanning her features and examining his newfound prisoner with as much curiosity as he did contempt for the imposition she had managed to cause. She was smaller than he had imagined her to be on description. More fragile, for lack of a better word. A slender slip of a girl who looked as though she probably hadn't had an adequate night's rest or adequate meal in weeks. She looked downtrodden, battered, defeated. A tiny whisper of a girl, delicate features wrought and weary, outfitted, accentuated by a darkening bruise across the cheek and a thoroughly split lip; a swelling above the eye and a decent amount of dried blood that matted dark hair to the side of her head and had started to crust over a fresh wound.

All maladies undoubtedly courtesy of her host.

She was a mess, a wreck, a shell of something that was once perhaps much stronger and much less on the brink of breaking. But by the looks of her, she had been at the end of her rope, dying for some sort of reprieve, for far too long. She was so close to the edge, by all appearances, all it seemed it would take was just one slight, gentle push and she would shatter into a thousand pieces if not more. She was defeated, or at the very least, remarkably close to it.

And yet still, there was a spark in her. It was there, just barely notable for Ren to pick out. A faint flash in moss green eyes with which she returned his stare. The subtle way she tilted her chin upwards in defiance to boost her own morale and uplift herself for the task at hand as he spoke. There was a flicker of spirit in her that anyone could see, there was no denying it. But it wasn't that obvious display and that obvious glint that told him so. More importantly than any of that, there was a flicker, a spark of something that he could feel in her, somewhere buried in the depths. Something more than just a lingering hit of resistance serving as a proverbial life raft to cling to.

Something. But what and why there was anything there for him to feel at all, Ren wasn't quite sure. And that was the most curious of all.

"I have to admit, you're not what I expected. You don't look like you have it in you … I'm impressed."

Arra gave him nothing in return. Not a single word.

The only thing Ren managed to weasel out of her was a sharp hiss as she winced away from his gloved hand when his fingers came to rest at the split skin of her temple and pressed into the raw flesh just a little too firmly.

"I was told you wished to speak and now it seems I heard wrong." His voice dropped slightly, the rasp through the modulator in his mask finding some modicum of a softer, gentler, almost melodic tone; just enough to throw her, just enough to tenuously set her a little at ease. Just enough to bring down the walls without giving too much. "Now that I've come, you're so quiet … So guarded … So nervous. I'd tell you don't be, but that won't work, will it? You can't help it. A part of you still wants to fight, doesn't it? A part of you is still trying to fight … You just don't know how to do it, not here … Not now."

"Whatever." Arra scoffed reactively and turned her head from him; a faint smirk playing on her lips as she did her best to brush off the fact that he was 10,000% right.

In a swift flick of two curled fingers and an effortless display of his abilities, Ren forced her back to face him, whipping her a little dizzy in the process. The second heavy blow of reality thrust upon her in just about as many minutes.

"Do you think you'd win?"

She wouldn't and she knew it.

Ren wasn't wrong. Arra didn't know how to fight him, not really anyway; she didn't even know where to begin. She could toy with him and he would toy with her right back. The difference was his deck was so solidly stacked against her, there was no room to barter. There would be no roundabout way of gaining the upper hand by dropping just a scrap or two at his feet by which to intrigue him and make him up his anty and counter some sort of offer in return. If she didn't give Ren exactly what he wanted, a little whiplash would be the least of her worries. If she didn't give him exactly what he wanted, she had no doubt she'd be dead and disposed of faster than she could blink. He wasn't known for holding a compassionate streak after all. He was ruthless, vicious and uncompromising in the pursuit of his own interests and she, Arra was quite certain, was rather disposable as far a he was concerned.

If she didn't give him exactly what he wanted, he would kill her, that much was almost guaranteed. The rub of it was the fact that she stood the exact same likelihood of meeting the exact same fate even if she complied. Arra's only option, her only plan of attack worth anything at all, would be to try and draw out the potentially inevitable as long as possible; to play some enticing game of cat and mouse to buy herself some time. A few days, a few hours even, some window by which she could actually think and plot something out rather than flying by the seat of her pants. She could toy with him, volley back and forth with him, or rather she could try to, for as long as his patience would hold out … And for now, that would have to suffice.

"Do you?" Ren flexed his skill again and a fresh bolt of pain ripped through Arra's skull.

She knew he could hurt her if he really wanted to and if he really wanted to, he would do so without hesitation … But knowing something and experiencing it firsthand were two very different things. Like a white-hot knife searing clean through her, it was startling in intensity that sparked not so much a ringing in her ears as much as a shrieking. Were she not already seated on the floor of the cell; it would have brought her to her knees as the room about her began to spin again.

"N-no." Arra sputtered miserably.

"It would be better for you to speak up."

Another flex and she cracked a little, failing miserably in her effort bite back the yelp that slipped past her lips; unquestionably serving Ren a dose of satisfaction. Hand to the bridge of her nose and grimacing through the discomfort, Arra cleared her throat, forced a breath, and did her best to make herself sound a little steadier as if it made any difference.

"No."

"Good, we agree then." Whatever fleeting softness there had been in Ren's tone had gone as quickly as it had come. "I was told you wished to speak. So. Speak."

"What do you want me to tell you?"

"The truth." He spat matter of factly. "You've trespassed on one of my transport carriers … You're trespassing on my destroyer as we speak … I want you to tell me everything. It shouldn't be too difficult … Should it?"

Arra fought herself to try and find the words to begin. She tried to find something, anything at his behest only to fall incredibly short. Her tongue tangling and her voice seizing in the back of her throat at the most inopportune time imaginable, all she could do was try and force the words to come but they just wouldn't. She was locked to the spot, frozen under his gaze and held captive by the way he stared clean through her and she couldn't muster a single syllable to save her life.

She was held captive there before him, under a pregnant pause every bit as imposing as Ren himself; unnerved but not so much terrified as transfixed as she burned through every opportunity, she was being given with record speed.

"Nothing … Really?"

It should have been so easy just to speak … But she couldn't and the fact that she couldn't did not bode well for the way the rest of the ordeal was going to play out.

"How very disappointing." Ren huffed with notable irritation.

Blame it on the tax even getting to this point had put on her in every sense of the word. Blame it on the solid beating she had received at the hands of a pair of stormtroopers. Blame it on the shock of being faced with him and knowing in very short order she would have to go toe to toe. Blame it on 10,000 other things or blame it on everything all at once, it didn't really matter, Arra was choking and choking badly. She could draw their meeting out; she could engage him in a back and forth in which she could hold her own … She could save her own skin that way, of that, Arra was almost certain. But to do so, she needed to give herself a stranglehold on Ren's attention, and the more she faltered, the more and the faster it would slip away.

"She can sit until she feels more talkative … She doesn't eat until she does." He shot his command over his shoulder without pulling his gaze from her.

"Yes, sir."

"Send for me when she's too weak to stand … Then we'll see how eager she is for a chat … And if she isn't … If it's still a fight she wants …" Ren leaned towards her, his voice barely above a whisper; the back of his hand ghosting over her cheek so softly that from anyone else it would be endearing and sweet. "… I'll give her one."

His words hung in the air poignantly in a pregnant pause as he pushed himself back to his feet, towering over her momentarily before turning heel and making to take his leave. The hammer strike of Ren's boot on the cold durasteel floor panel halfway out of the cell shook Arra back to reality and jolted a fresh dose of courage through her veins to steel her nerves and force herself to do what she needed to.

"Wait …" She called out for him to stop before the nerve had gone and before the opportunity was lost; before he had the chance to make their next encounter more uncomfortable than their first had already been.

"I've waited long enough." Ren didn't so much as turn to face her.

"I know. I-I—"

"You waste my time." He had no mind for pandering for the sake of hearing simple excuses.

"Just … Wait."

He shot a frigid stare over his shoulder cold, controlled and curious all at once; something in her voice pricking at the itch in the back of his mind once again; something about the way she stared back at him, meek and mild, a shell of a girl on the floor of a cell barely big enough to turn around in, that rooted him to the spot.

"Please?"

Ren wasn't in the habit of indulging prisoners, or anyone else for that matter, and his patience was running threadbare. After another heavy, silent impasse of sorts he relented and traced his steps back towards her. He wasn't in the habit of providing second chances without some measure of consequence. Not even for small or petty matters such as this.

This once though, and just this once, he would make an exception … And it would be by only fault of her own if Arra decided to squander it.

"Fine … You think you've regained your voice, then use it. I'll even make it easy for you." He circled around and briskly dropped down in front of her again, this time a little closer so as to make evading both his presence and his gaze a little more difficult. "I'll have your name while you try and find what backbone you think you have."

"Ar—" She cleared her throat, chasing away a momentary resurgence of nervousness. "Arra."

"Very good … Was that so difficult?"

She shook her head in a wordless reply.

"It certainly seems it … Maybe I'm mistaken." He jibed her condescendingly, pointedly trying to get a rise out of her so she would drop the wall and react. So she wouldn't have to pull each answer out of her like a particularly stubborn dental extraction. So she would lash out and react and give him full license and full excuse to react himself in the one way he was so very good at. "And your family name?"

"Just Arra."

"No family name … So you're a slave then?"

"No."

"An orphan?"

"Not exactly."

"Then what exactly?"

Arra's demeanor shifted. The nervousness and uncertainty in her eyes quickly deadened and gave way to something else entirely. Something stronger, something more resolute, something colder … And more importantly, something angrier.

"None of your business."

"Really?"

He'd hit a nerve.

"Is that what you think?" He leaned into her a little more, bringing his masked visage but an inch or two away from hers; full well enjoying the shift in mood and the nuance of venom that lilted in her voice. "How bold of you. Everything about you is my business."

"It's not important."

"That's not your decision … It's … Your family name …"

"I don't have one …" Arra grit her teeth and bit back a swell of frustration.

"Liar." Ren's voice barely above an ominous whisper. "Should I go in and get it myself?"

It started with a tingle.

A fluttering in her head, just faint enough to distinguish.

When it started it was barely there. Just at the edge of her thoughts. Just enough to let her know how easily he could pick her brain and get whatever he wanted whether she co-operated or not. Anything more than doing just that was a courtesy and her willing participation wasn't needed for this process. When it started it was just enough to reaffirm that he had and would always have the upper hand.

"You know there's nothing you can keep from me." He warned softly, lightly smoothing gloved fingertips over the blood crusted tendrils of hair at her temple. "Don't make me dig … You won't enjoy it."

Arra's breath caught in her chest as he probed a little deeper, a little more insistently and a little more aggressively. What once was a tingle and a flutter turned into a sharp sting and a hum growing ever louder in her head by the second. A slow burn and warmth that spread over every inch of her and was anything but pleasant.

He pressed around the edges, scanning through anything and everything he could get his proverbial fingers on. He rifled through everything insignificant that he couldn't care less about just because he could and just because he wanted her to know he could. He pressed deeper and deeper through her mind to dig out what she was so unwilling to provide, sending flashes in rapid-fire racing right through her. Flashes of all memories of all past lives she seldom spoke of. Memories of people and places, conversations, and circumstances she would give her right arm to be wiped clean of all dragged to the surface for her to suffer through.

That could be ignored. The reopened wounds and the bruises just below the surface could be cast to the side without a care. Arra had buried everything and everyone she never wanted to think about six feet under once, she was more than capable of doing it again. Long had she been well schooled at blocking out the trauma, the pain, and anything else there was to be dredged up by her past.

What she couldn't ignore, however, and what was a steadily growing concern, was the way the deeper Ren tore his way through the fabric of her subconscious, the harder it was becoming for her to keep a grip on herself. The harder it was for her to keep some things under lock and key and hidden away where he couldn't find it; where he wouldn't know everything there was to know about her all at once and entirely too quickly for her to have any recourse at all.

There were some cards Arra couldn't yet lay on the table.

There were some things she didn't want to.

But every passing second Ren wormed his way through her thoughts, and every passing second she tried so valiantly to fight against him through clenched teeth and the tears that pricked at the corners of her eyes, she lost her grip on everything he couldn't afford to lose her grip on a little more.

Her hand was forced.

She had no choice. She had to give it to him. She had to let Ren take her down that path no matter how much she didn't want to. There was no other way out without spilling everything she was not yet ready to have spilled out and ripe for his picking.

She had to give it to him and hope that it was enough to buy her time … Before she gave him everything.

"Your family name … give it to me."