Conversations
- Part II -

"How did you feel, after you killed Snoke?"

The abrupt voice at his back startles Kylo Ren into flinching. Caf sloshes over the edge of his cup, hot upon his sleeve as he sets it down at his well-polished permasteel desk. He hadn't felt the Force bond opening between them; the telltale vacuum of sound and shift in perception failed to alert his senses.

The fact of this is almost as unsettling as the scavenger's question.

"What do you mean?" guarded, stalling even, he turns slowly to face the girl. For the barest second his gaze flicks over her face, catching the dark scowl and stern press of her lips before dropping to take in the coarse brown robe and the hilt of the broken saber at her belt. A sharp pang twists at his stomach. He's not sure if it's over the loss of that saber, or fact that she's wearing Jedi garb.

"Well, did you feel anything? Guilt? Grief?" Her words punch the air like accusations and he wonders where she's heading with this. "Or was it no different than killing your father?"

Ah. There it is. They're having this conversation again.

He leans back against the bench, appraising Rey openly now as he idly wonders if he can press her into enough discomfort to make her forget the question. In the pause of silence, he reaches out with his mind. Just a little. Just to test if he can get a read on her despite their distance being so much greater than the four feet of durasteel flooring between them would suggest.

"Well?" She presses. Gaze unnervingly direct. And so full of mounting rage.

Sighing, he gives up on trying to skim her mind. Either he can't across this distance, or she's learnt how to deflect him.

"I felt released." He answers at last. Calmly; the words a confession uttered into an abyss. "When I killed Snoke. I felt released. I felt... free."

It's as if a weight has lifted, to say this aloud. Almost as much as the act of killing his Master had been. But his answer puzzles her. He doesn't need to probe her mind to know this - he can see the uncertainty flicker across her face before she can shelve it. And as much as he knows he should tell her to mind her own business and break off this connection, he finds himself suddenly wanting to elaborate just a little more. Like an uncorked bottle ready to spill.

"For as long as I can remember, Snoke was in my head. Crooning. Threatening. Guiding. Cajoling. Even as a child -" He stops, breath catching as he realises he's revealed far more than he ever intended. To her. To himself.

"Go on," she urges, taking a half-step closer. And damned if there isn't a trace warmth in her voice to soften that glacial edge. "I'm listening."

"The thing is," he presses himself back, and for a moment he could laugh at the realisation that he's trying to escape this slip of a girl. But that impulse soon passes when he recognises it's his own truth he wants to run from. Even as the words tumble from his mouth nonetheless. "I became so used to his presence at the back of my mind… I guess I stopped noticing he was there. Until he was gone."

She waits in silence as he gazes into the mid-distance. He had no intention of revealing a word of this - not until he found himself opening his mouth. And now a tightness clenches at his gut as the reality of his words hit him. The truth, it seems, is indeed a bitter pill to swallow. Still, he feels compelled to continue. "It was only when the whispers stilled, that I finally recognised the decisions I wanted to make."

"So he had some kind of hold on you that you didn't know was there?" There's an almost desperate edge of hope to her voice. As if salvaging him really means that much to her. The surprise of it causes his reply to catch in his throat.

He shifts his gaze to meet her own. The earnest gleam in her eyes is almost his undoing. He doesn't need to probe her mind to see she would deal easier with his evil misdeeds if she could convince herself that Snoke's manipulations had been behind each one all along.

"And killing him released you." There's no question in her tone now. And since she's formed a conclusion that works quite neatly to give him the redemption he craves, yet will never deserve, he finds himself nodding. And then he waits for her to bring up Han Solo again. Because that's where she's driving this conversation next, isn't it?

But now the air around them is shifting; the low hum of the Star Destroyer's engines purr into his conscience. The smell of the caf, cooling on his desk, drifts into his awareness. Their Force bond is fading. And damned if there's not a glisten in her eyes as she takes another step towards him; one hand reaching for his own...

Then she is gone.

And he is left to sink into his chair. To rest his elbows upon the musty piles of delicate flimsi at his desk, and bury his head in his hands. The task of sifting through ancient star charts of the Unknown Regions, forgotten.

Besieged by an unacknowledged truth now laid bare, the confession of freedom does nothing to lift the weight of Snoke's oppression from Kylo Ren's shoulders. Instead, it prompts him to recognise his former Master's whisperings for the manipulations they were. And know that he was merely a puppet - led to dance by Snoke's strings.

The drone of engines fade once more as his thoughts drive deeper inwards. The air hangs in frigid suspension as the darkness within him coils and churns, seeking its own ventilation. His hand twitches, longing to beckon his saber to it. To unleash the rage boiling within the pit of his stomach.

Then a hand, feather-soft, settles upon his shoulder. The fingers firm but gentle as they squeeze a reassurance against his tensed muscles. He holds his breath, not daring to move until finally, he exhales with a controlled effort.

"You came back." He manages at last. "How?"

"I don't know." There's a tightness in her voice. "I didn't want to leave you - not like that. You looked…"

Wretched. The word hangs unspoken, but he hears the vibration of it nonetheless.

Anger and shame pierce through him. He doesn't need her pity. He doesn't need anything - not from anyone.

The hand pulls away. As if she's only now realised she reached for him in the first place. In the absence of her warmth, the cold chill returns. Regret washes over him. Perhaps he needs her after all.

"Join me." It's neither a demand nor a question. Damn him, if it's not a plea.

"No."

He can feel her slipping away again and it takes every last ounce of his will to hold himself from drawing her back in. He doesn't need her, he tells himself obstinately. Clenching his jaw against the muscle that twitches traitorously beneath his eye.

"But I'll wait for you to join me."

The words echo as if bouncing off the very stars that divide them. And then she's gone once more.

A smile tugs at his lips, despite himself. While he has no aspiration of giving up his position as Supreme Leader of the Galaxy and joining the Resistance or the new Jedi Order or whatever lost cause Rey is a part of, any time soon, he can't help but feel amused by her boldness.

His gaze returns to the star charts before him, though he stares at them unseeing. Snoke indeed manipulated him for most of his life. But Snoke is gone. And he, Kylo Ren, is the Supreme Leader. Light has been shed upon a future that once offered only darkness. And finally, it's allowed him to see that which he's craved all along. That which Snoke sought to keep from him.

Balance.