Everything I wanted
Kylo rarely slept; the opportunity was not one that was often afforded to a high ranking official. There was work to be done, traitors to hunt, scavengers to obsess over. Beyond the busywork, more practical reasons kept him from slumber ; the ship was dangerous, enemies waiting for a vulnerable moment to snuff him out any chance they could.
And of course, there were the dreams.
If Kylo were honest, those were the prominent reason he refused sleep, far preferring to work until his eyes stung, bloodshot and bone-tired, waiting for the point of sheer exhaustion to lay down on the black sheets of his bed. He wouldn't dream during those times, his body too deprived of its basic needs to conjure up vivid memories or hallucinations.
He had no control when he slept, and it frightened him in ways that were difficult to name. Would he see his mothers face, crestfallen and disappointed, or perhaps his uncle, wide eyed with terror as he stood over him, weapon in hand and ready to kill? On his darker days he saw the faces of his early victims, the ones that stayed with him the most. He tried not to carry them, to let their faces fall into the shadows, but the first dozen kills were hard on him back then; now they were more or less routine, a matter of upkeep that he did not pause long enough to dwell on. Guilt was often tangled in the web of his subconscious when he dreamed, the feelings heavy as lead in his chest. He dreaded Snoke invading his thoughts to find this weakness, a brutal punishment sure to follow.
So it surprised Ben when he woke to find that he had not relived pieces of his past or took his ghosts out to play; instead, he had dreamed he had everything he ever wanted. The first order was in control- he was in control. The throne felt cold and harsh under him, it's sharp angles formed for fear, not comfort. Snoke, his master, his tormentor, lay dead by his hands, hux falling shortly after. The armies of storm troopers awaited his orders- he answered to no one. He had carved out a place for himself, a place to belong with his dark thoughts, a spot not big enough for two.
Of course meant that she was gone too. The resistance had been wiped out in a single blow, and finally, at long last, there was no one to oppose him. No one to fight back, no one to care enough to try. He had silenced the galaxy so completely that opposition was not even dreamed of. Rey had truly been the last hope- his mother had not been wrong to place her bets on the lonely girl from Jakku. Once she fell, so did the dream of freedom.
What struck him first was the boredom. It was empty, dreary and mundane. There was no challenge, no being who stood as his equal. He was alone, just as he always had been. She would stay silent to him, just like the rest of his enemies who died by his hand. He had everything, finally, but he was utterly alone. As he sat on his throne, his chest ached so painfully his black leather glove reached up, gripping at his tunic.
It was a dream of everything he wanted.
He woke conflicted, breath coming out in short, ragged puffs, hand still clutching his heart. He had not conquered, had not found the true peace that Snoke promised. Wasn't power supposed to be the answer? Yet even with the galaxy laid out at his feet, he still felt hollow and empty.
Kylo ran his fingers through his thick hair, trying to bring down his panic. He had not killed Rey; She was alive, somewhere, still fighting to see another day. It made sense that his world seemed bleak without her; she had become ingrained in his being, their force bond so much stronger than Snoke's whispers ever were. At first, it had been anger he felt from her, so strong he could have sworn she was embracing the dark. Her replies were cold and clipped, unwilling to engage with him, no matter how much he probed. It wasn't until she unwillingly caught glimpses of him, of his past, that she softened- just a little, bit by bit, until finally, she spoke to him easily, hopefully. He had not meant to show her, never intended to reveal those pieces to anyone, yet she crept into his mind and watched in horror at the broken pieces of his life. She spoke to him then, one lost soul to another, aching to make a connection. It was never anything of value to the first order, the words only held meaning to him. She had become so enmeshed in him that it became stranger to feel nothing from her than have her force invading him.
Whereas Snoke stroked the fire that burned white with rage, filling him with a blinding fury, Rey soothed an ache he did not know existed, cleared his mind and filled him with doubts all at once. It was uncomfortable to be spoken to so kindly, and the more she did it, the more she offered, the more he craved. She was a headache, to be sure, but for the first time, he didn't feel alone. She was there, tempting him by simply existing. Rey was sunlight and hope, freedom in its truest form, invoking feelings the rolled in his gut when he thought of her. She understood him, and still sought him out. She was pure, healing energy, and perhaps foolishly, he felt important to her.
Such a contrast to his world. He was a cog in the machine, more powerful and prominent than a storm trooper, to be sure, but did that matter? He was an apprentice of Snoke's, Vader's blood flowing through his veins, yet his powerful ties did not bring him the status he craved. When he was alone at night, training, avoiding sleep, he dabbled in forbidden thoughts, ones he was too afraid to find the answer to. What had drawn Snoke to him? Was it his heritage, Vader's legacy still too potent to die? Did Snoke recognize his potential, see that the force was strong in him, still young and alone, easy to manipulate, easy to groom? Or did the supreme leader seek him out as a way to punish his parents, to toy with the people he hated most, vowing to drag a child born from light down to the deepest depths of darkness. He had little doubt Snoke cared for him past his own ambitions, no affection lost between mentor and apprentice. He was a black prince, but still treated just as roughly as a foot soldier. When the time comes to take his last breath, will there be anyone left to mourn? Kylo wondered when that started to matter to him.
'You're in a bad mood.' She called to him again, her voice groggy. She must have been sleeping; his mood so foul it shook her from her slumber.
'Go back to bed.' He commanded, sure that she would reject him, yet he told her anyway. He felt a pang of guilt surge through him for waking her.
'Did something happen? She pressed; he could feel her exhaustion coursing through him.
'Just a dream.' He responded truthfully.
'Not a good one, I take it.'
'It might have been a nightmare.' He felt childish even thinking it, immediately regretting sending the thought. It felt so natural to talk to her, he forgot to keep his shield up and bite his tongue. He tucked the dream away in a corner of his mind she could not reach, unwilling to share it with her. Although she had had her fair share of dreams where he lay dead, they had not occurred since their truce, their common ground was found. It went without saying that she would be hurt from it, and he would be damned if he was going to be the cause of it. No, better to store it away and deal with it on his own and drag her into his sordid mess.
'Do you want to talk about it?' She asked, more alert than she had been earlier, but still on the cusp of sleep.
'No. Get some sleep. Tired warriors make mistakes.' He really couldn't afford her to be sloppy. Not in battle, not with her feelings. It was far too dangerous.
'Its hard to sleep when you're so upset.' Rey reasoned. 'What's wrong?'
Kylo was struck by her sincerity, as he always was. Maybe it was the late hour, or perhaps it was how unsettled he was from his dream, just happy she was alive to talk to. He found himself answering honestly. 'The dark side has its prices.'
'Ones you shouldn't have to pay.' Her answer was quick, expected. 'There's so much good in you, Ben. I wish you could see that.'
An old argument, a known minefield. He didn't respond, an answer in itself, and let their connection fall silent. After some time, she finally spoke; Maybe she sensed his discomfort, or exhaustion made her too tired to fight. For tonight, she was willing to let him sit with the thought. 'I'm here if you need me.' She promised, and shortly after he felt the heaviness of sleep take her.
He knew she would listen, if he wanted to share in his misery. He had little proof, but he was sure if he opened up his darkness she would take it all in.
He had dreamed of everything he wanted, or at least everything he had thought he wanted.
Power was easy to attain; it was his birthright, it flowed through him easily, gained it with force when needed.
Maybe what he truly wanted was something harder to speak of.