Note: I threw together this rollercoaster of a chapter in part because I'd like to selfishly plug my new story, The Enemy. It's a Reylo fic inspired by a Clone Wars episode. "During an outer-rim skirmish, Kylo and Rey are captured by Trandoshan hunters and find themselves dumped upon a jungle planet. To escape the hunting ground, they have to work together..." I've been quietly chipping away at the fic in and around other stories, and I've decided now that the first 5 chapters ready, I'll start posting it weekly. So if you need another in-universe enemies-to-friends/lovers fic to read... I hope you check it out. :)

Oh, also... I'm not gonna try to cushion this fall: Chapter 15 is the culmination of 27 days of cabin fever. For me, not for Rey and Kylo. I'm sure you folk know where I'm coming from here, right? *Please understand where I'm coming from here...*

Conversations
Part XV

"How many stormtroopers do you think would defect from the First Order if given half a chance?"

The question catches Kylo as he steps into the cockpit, stopping him in mid-stride. He casts a quizzical glance at the back of Rey's head before taking in her nonchalant pose; feet propped against the control panel, hands tucked behind her head as she stretches out across the pilot seat…

From the thin central ceiling beam, the wink of his father's golden dice catches his attention. Women! they seem to say, jingling in the non-existent breeze like a resigned shrug.

Shaking his head, Kylo slumps into the co-pilot seat. "Sometimes I think you try to rile me up on purpose. Just for a bite."

"Yeah, I do." Grinning, Rey swings her feet down and leans towards him. "But it's a valid question. Have you not wondered, yourself? Since Finn -"

"FN-2187's circumstance was unique."

"Why do you insist on calling him by a designation? He's human -"

"He's property," Kylo corrects, even as a part of him groans and wishes he could retract the words. "Rey, I really don't wish to have this conversation with you…"

"Do you really mean that?"

"Absolutely. I really have no inclination whatsoever to talk about this right now. Or ever." He rubs his knuckles against his eyes. "Especially not when I've just woken."

"No, I mean, do you really believe Finn is just property?" Rey is relentless and Kylo realises with piercing regret that it's a subject close to her heart. "Is that honestly your feeling about the stormtroopers under your command? That they're all just… Property of the First Order? Because only a day ago you were trying to convince me the indoctrination of stormtroopers was a problem to you!"

"I never said that exactly..." Did he? Kylo shifts uncomfortably, bracing his hands against his seat as if preparing to launch out of it. "I'm sure what I meant is cloning has always been far more efficient and humane than stealing children from villages and -"

The deepening of Rey's scowl cuts him off in mid-sentence. Evidently the cloning of stormtroopers is no more ethical to her than child abduction.

"Look," Kylo glances to the golden chance cubes once more. Unsurprisingly, they offer no advice. "I really don't know what you expect me to say but, by all means, please tell me."

The Jedi narrows her eyes as if his plea is a challenge she's all too eager to accept. "Ben, I just want you to -"

"Stop calling me -" As if a trigger has been pulled, Kylo jettisons from his seat and sidles past Rey. The circular corridor offers refuge if only he can edge his way over to it. "You know what? I don't think I need you to tell me what I should think or say, or who I should be, after all."

"You're only saying that because you know I'm right," Rey starts, half-rising in her seat as she swings around. "You just can't handle facing the truth!"

"Look, Princess! Not everyone shares your version of the truth!"

The anger that explodes from Kylo is derived from a combination of exhaustion and guilt and the kind of frustration that aches in his loins and provokes a deep-seated sense of monastic shame whenever he's within Rey's vicinity. And in the instant the words roar from his mouth, he's reminded, like an echo through time, of every argument his awkward childhood ears overheard between his parents. It only serves to anger him further, and he slams his fist into the bulkhead before storming down the corridor, towards the main hold.

Refuge. With any luck.

Anger pours through Rey as the sound of Kylo's footfall fades. She feels it at her temples, pulsing in time to her heartbeat. Threading through her veins like a poison. Rapping tense fingers against the control panel, she watches in fascination as the fine hairs of her arms rise with static and, for a moment, she wonders what would happen if she were to stretch out her fingers and channel the anger into fine threads of energy...

And into what? The ship's control panel? Or perhaps its transparisteel viewport? Fool, Rey chastises herself. Ridiculous fool.

Sucking deep gulps of air into tightening lungs, she forces her fingers into tightly furled fists. The action serves as a dampener. Clamping back those sparking threads of energy before they find their outlet.

It's the cabin fever, Rey thinks, sinking shakily back into the headrest. It's the culmination of days spent in isolation with a spoiled, entitled man-child whose endless reveals of soft edges and sharp planes constantly infuriate her. Like the playful innuendos that mean nothing and the gossamer smiles that mean more than the sum of all stars. And the outbursts of scathing anger that scare her - not because she fears for herself, but because she fears for him. For what dark and ugly thing he'll one day twist himself into if he doesn't see his guilt and self-hatred for what it is, and lay it to rest.

It takes Rey several minutes to breathe through the anger and absolute blanket frustration that fizzes beneath her skin. To talk herself down from a precipice where on one side she feels like she's making a genuine connection with Leia's fallen son, and on the other… She's merely fooling herself by creating a persona for someone who doesn't exist and screaming into a void while doing so. And for what? Clearly, there's no sense in trying to turn Kylo Ren from the Darkside; he's made it abundantly clear that the darkness is exactly where he wants to be.

In that moment a small quiet part of herself wonders, what if Kylo really is right? Not about the stormtroopers - this isn't about the stormtroopers - but about her insistence that he should ascend to some bright, shining pedestal? That he should rise to meet her checklist of wholesome ideals that she's cobbled together from lost childhood wishes and self-taught fantasies of what the perfect paragon should behave like?

What is it about him that makes her unable to let that fiction go?

Leaning forward, Rey presses her forehead into the crook of her arm and groans towards the floor. Kylo is who he is. He's tried to tell her that himself, enough times already. She's fooling herself - utterly fooling herself - to expect anything else.

"You're right." A footfall behind her causes her to jerk upright sharply as the very object of her frustration reenters the cockpit and throws himself back into the co-pilot seat.

"Huh?" Rey blinks, uncomprehending.

"You're right. About the stormtroopers."

"Are you for real right now?"

"Of course." He stares, defying her to challenge him. She holds her tongue and waits for him to take care of that himself. "Okay, no. Well, maybe…"

At her huff of exasperation, he holds up a placating hand. "Look. I've never given stormtroopers much thought. Any thought, for that matter. They're just…"

"Kylo," Rey interrupts sharply, and pauses as he startles for a moment, "this isn't about stormtroopers."

"No." He agrees, shoulders slumping. Blinking away from her gaze, his expression turns pensive as he tilts his head towards the cockpit's ceiling beam. "It isn't."

Rey's mind draws a blank as she considers how to fill this sudden strange awkward silence. She watches Kylo from the corner of her eye as he runs his hands through his hair in a gesture that seems somehow explicitly nervous.

"It's just…" He leaps to his feet then, causing Rey to flinch back in both confusion and alarm as he paces the confined cockpit. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth... As if the momentum might help him to release his words. "It's just… When you talk about the traitor -"

"Finn."

"Yes, that one," he waves an impatient hand, "when you talk about… him…"

Kylo's words fall away as Rey feels the broil of his emotions. Turbulent. Like a gathering storm. Or static dancing across her skin. In a flash of inspiration, his predicament is crystal clear to her. All that talk of defecting from the First Order…

"You're jealous of Finn."

"What?" It's more of a pitched, strangled noise than an actual word, and he scowls as he presses his lips into a determined line - as if to stop any such girlish squeak from escaping again. "No, I'm not."

"Yeah, you are."

"No. That's a ridiculous suggestion." The irrepressible eye tic betrays Kylo's perfectly deadpan voice. He freezes in his pacing, rocking on his heel as if caught in a tractor beam.

"You are!" Rey pushes herself from her seat and punctuates each word with a finger jab to Kylo's chest. "You're jealous of Finn, and you just haven't figured it out yet!"

"What could I possibly be jeal-" He winces, catching her stabby finger and stilling it in his palm. "What could that turncoat possibly have that I would want?"

"I could think of several things, actually," Rey challenges, "you need only consider one."

"Y-you?" Kylo's voice cracks on that singular word. He sucks in a quick breath as if he could only snatch it from the air again.

"Me?" She jerks back, genuinely bewildered. "No, I was going to say freedom."

In the silence that swan dives between them, the weight of Kylo's one misspoken word settles on Rey's shoulders. "Wait, why would you say me?"

"No," he shakes his head vehemently, quickly releasing Rey's hand from his own. "I didn't say you."

"Yes," she nods with equal vigor, stepping forward and forcing him back like a predator baling up its prey, "that's definitely what I heard you say."

"No, I didn't."

"You did."

Heat races to Rey's cheeks as she considers the implication. The cockpit is silent but for their sharp shallow breaths. Kylo watches her; expression pained, eyes blown wide and borderline pleading. As if this turn in conversation has flayed him open, exposing insides that are not quite ready for such abrupt display. Biting her lip, Rey casts her gaze away, unable to bear it herself.

"You're right, maybe you didn't," she says with sudden decisiveness; pivoting away towards the corridor and leaving Kylo floored and flushing in her wake.

The echo of Rey's words stay with him after her footsteps fade.

.*.

"Maybe I did," he whispers. But she doesn't hear him.

And it's probably just as well.

His father's gold-plated dice catch his eye, glinting in camaraderie. I've been there before, kid. He sighs and unthreads them from the narrow durasteel beam, cradling the cool cubes in his palm with nostalgic reverence before slipping them into his pocket.

"The shuttle will be here soon."

Rey startles, swearing as she catches her fingers in the closing lid of the cargo box. Sliding it back into place, she snatches up a bundle of black cloth and presents Kylo with a hollow smile as she turns; his sudden presence in the cargo bay reminding her that time alone with her thoughts has done nothing to calm the nervous churning of her stomach. "Uh-huh."

"Rey, about before -"

"To be fair, my first guess was going to be friendship - which is another thing Finn has that you don't." She winces at the same time Kylo does, realising the words have come across harsher than intended.

"Rey…" Kylo steps closer, jaw working in that habitual way that it does when he pre-chews his words.

"You're jealous of my friendship with Finn. That's what I meant to say. That's what I was meaning." Rey steps back, removing herself from what is quickly becoming a too-intimate space. "And that's what you were meaning too, right?"

Kylo stares at her. And then closes his eyes. "Okay. Sure."

Nodding, Rey ignores the disappointment that settles in the pit of her stomach. "Great"

"Great." He repeats, opening his eyes to shift his gaze with detached curiosity to the half-ransacked jumble of First Order cargo boxes beyond her. "Well, I just came to tell you the shuttle's nearly here," his eyes drift to the black fabric in her arms, "so prepare anything you plan on bringing aboard."

"Wait!" On impulse, Rey steps forward and stops herself short of reaching for him. "You're actually serious about leaving behind the Falcon? You know this ship is the fastest -"

"This floating palace of space junk has a list of problems as long as a rancor's arm. We can't rely on it. Not for where we're going. I thought we'd agreed to this." Kylo finishes tersely. His brown eyes follow as she begins to pace the cargo bay. "Are you alright?"

"You suggested it, yes." Rey snaps, ignoring his query. "I never agreed."

"You never disagreed either!" Scrubbing a hand over his face, Kylo hisses through his fingers, "look, we've got an hour -"

"What if Hux sent troopers with the shuttle?"

"What?" His voice is strained as he raises his head. "Why would he do that?"

"I don't know. Maybe to ensure that…" Rey's words taper off uselessly. In truth, she has no idea where she's going with this. She only knows that Kylo is asking her to leave the closest thing she has to a home in favour of a First Order ship, and she has no idea how to deal with that in her own head let alone communicate her fears to him. "I don't know."

"You're worrying needlessly."

"I know."

"You're going to wear a hole into the floor."

"I know."

"There's little more than engine tape holding it together as it is."

Rey stops at the note of genuine concern in Kylo's voice. A smile breaks through the tense line of her mouth. "I know."

His face softens into an answering smile. He looks tired, she notes. In that moment, she feels ashamed at the way arguments fall so easily from her tongue.

"Just finish up what you're doing," he says finally, his voice oddly sympathetic. "I'll see you on deck soon."

"I'll be ready." Rey forces the words as he turns away. She stares down at the black fabric crumpled in her fists.

It feels like a betrayal to abandon this comfortable old ship - Han's ship - in favour of something sleek and shiny and stinking of the First Order. How can she trust Kylo to keep his word and return her to the Falcon? How can she trust someone groomed to serve the Darkside?

How can she trust.

Rey doesn't make it to the main hold before the shuttle arrives. But she does spend the hour pacing the cargo bay with a nervous intensity that has even the supply boxes rattling. It's not in her nature to feel so disempowered. Fear has always made her braver. Stronger. But this fear - this fear is different. This fear is borne of so many unresolved things. And it's a fear that is only half her own. The other half, she suspects, consists of Kylo's own private uncertainties.

The invisible thread that binds them is a curse in more ways than one.

The Falcon gives a small jolt as Kylo's shuttle connects to the docking ring and Rey waits, ears straining for any sound to indicate a dozen stormtroopers may be preparing to descend upon her.

She knows Kylo's droid will attempt external repairs so that the Falcon will be ready to fly again when they return for it, but still a sliver of doubt harries her. Even when the lights flicker and return to full power, and she hears the sublight engines fire up again, the relief is still only half as palpable as it should be. It's only when the mechanical whirl of a droid rolls down the corridor towards her accompanied by the footfall of just a single pair of boots, that she relaxes her grip on the blaster Han gifted her.

Kylo stares in quiet surprise when he enters the cargo bay. "Are you hiding?"

"No." She lies.

"Yes. You are." He moves closer, his expression carefully neutral. "You thought I was going to allow an army aboard to arrest you."

"Not at all." Rey winces. The lie sounds weak. Even to her own ears.

"And what are you…" Kylo bites his lip as he assesses her with a critical eye. "What are you wearing?"

The blush that threatens the back of Rey's neck rises fully to her cheeks as she glances down at the FIrst Order uniform she found within a cargo box. "A backup plan."

"Right." Kylo's dark eyes shift over the high-necked double-breasted flare coat. The style is not First Order issue, but he recognises the charcoal gaberwool as a textile favoured by Hux; though the dramatic trumpet sleeves raise a brow. The scavenger has clinched the oversized coat at the waist with a belt that, upon closer inspection, appears made of twisted cables. "Innovative," he murmurs, before dropping his gaze to the form-fitting breeches and black knee-high boots. A feminine outfit, he notes curiously. And wonders who Hux had it commissioned for.

"Was it your back up plan to model couture for General Hux?" he asks finally, clearing his throat against his knuckles to smother a chuckle.

"What?" Rey glances down at her attire. "I thought this was some kind of officer uniform, or something? It was in a box stamped with First Order insignia," she adds defensively.

"Well, you're right about the something," Kylo's mouth twitches into a smile as he reaches out to pinch a flamboyant sleeve between thumb and forefinger. "That's not to say it doesn't look good on you, but for future reference, you might want to wear Shira Ren's outfit if you wish to look like you're accompanying me."

"Oh?" There's a tension to Rey's voice that she struggles to quell. "Did you travel with her often?"

Kylo's eyes flicker to hold her own. "Would my answer matter to you?"

Rey's gaze slides past Kylo's face, to the corridor beyond him. Her tone is sharp and clipped, "of course not."

"Of course not," he repeats, a soft sigh escaping him. "Rey, why won't you trust me?"

The question draws Rey's attention back to him. "Kylo, we're on two opposite sides of a war. You've already communicated with the First Order at least once behind my back and now - after the Falcon has been conveniently decommissioned - you're asking me to board an enemy ship out of blind trust?" She pauses, breathless. "Please excuse me while I take my time with that one."

"You're quite right." Kylo says in a measured tone, his voice oddly calm. "Take all the time you need. In the meantime, here's your droid."

He walks out then. Leaving her alone with half a dozen plundered boxes and a black BB-unit that seems to be working hard at sending her as much of an evil glare as a generic droid can muster.

Oh, and there's one more thing he leaves in his wake. A niggling feeling that she's yet again gone and broken something - just as the glue holding it together had finally begun to set.

End note: Is the angst and the arguments getting a bit much for anyone? If so, I'm truly sorry. It just keeps happening. Would you believe my first draft of this chapter was all light and fluffy? It just didn't feel right. Or ready. So... I threw all the words into a blender, strapped them into a rollercoaster and... This was the end result.

In case anyone's forgotten (because it feels so long ago), the reason for the First Order boxes being onboard the Falcon was covered back in Chapter 11 when Rey remarked on how easy their supply transports are to hit. Don't ask why they weren't unloaded before she set off on this journey... *cough* details details...

The inspiration for the new outfit Rey is currently sporting comes from... Eh, a link FFNET won't let me publish. Don't worry, she won't be keeping it. Her usual scavenger!Jedi attire is just um… In the wash.

Lastly, please stop by and check out my new fic The Enemy if you get a chance! (Sorry to plug that again. :p)