Chapter Two: Echo

And now, him on his back, gasping for air, wondering how she'd done it.

The locks he'd activated on the door after the changing of the guard, meant to keep her from approaching without strong resistance, now barred any others of his soldiers out. Communications had been shattered from blaster fire. He was in a cage partly of his own making, partly of hers. He extended the Force towards the hilt of the Lightsaber, but she stuck her face into his, dangerously close, her breath hot against his mouth and chin, her sweat dripping onto the planes of his cheeks, mixing with his own as it rolled down into his hair and onto the stones.

"Ben," she hissed, her spittle landing across his face. "This life isn't meant for you. There is Light in you. Renounce this life, come to the Light. It's not too late."

She was so blasted distracting, filling his vision, his ears, his nose, and even his mouth, making it difficult to focus his mind. Even her weight on his abdomen crushed him, covered as she was in the weighty red armor and robes of the Praetorian Guard. There was a good reason Jedi weren't to develop emotional connections with others. He'd spent years destroying any possible connections to others, honing his power, increasing his focus, and earning his success. Now her absurd presence proved that this was right, she was making it hard for much else to fill his brain other than her.

"Join me, Rey. I am supreme. Together, we would be unstoppable."

She looked at him in disgust, raising her saber. She meant to kill him now. He held her gaze steadily, knowing if he gave no protest, she wouldn't be able to carry through. She could only kill in defense, never in anger. It also gave him time to plan.

She stood and commanded him do the same, her saber still at the ready. He kept his hands at his side as she pointed the blue blade toward his chest. He stepped backward, raising his hands in submission. With a swift move, she cut through the straps of his vambraces, the armor clattering as it fell. The saber cut through his cuirass and gorget, which noisily joined the other pieces. She put the saber to his tunic, burning a hole through the fabric, his skin feeling the closeness of the energy. Bit by bit, she backed him up to the throne. He tumbled backward into it awkwardly as the saber continued to advance. With her other hand, she pulled shackles from her cloak and bound him wrist and ankle to the chair. Once his restraint was complete, she shut down her saber, holstered the weapon and stepped back.

"My wishes will be fulfilled when you reject the Dark Side and join me, give up your desire to rule others through ruthlessness and cruelty and seek freedom and peace." She extended her hand and his Lightsaber hilt jumped into it. She powered it off and disconnected the energy crystal. He was left to psychology now, his intellect his only available weapon. He felt as well-armed as ever.

"You are so naive, Rey. If it wasn't me as Supreme Leader, someone else, someone much less talented, much less merciful, would step up in a heartbeat."

She scoffed. "There is no one less merciful than you in the galaxy, a condition you've been honing for years." He couldn't disagree. One doesn't come to power by allowing enemies to retain their strength. She did not debate his talent, he noted.

She came closer, her face near his once again. Her breath had slowed once again. "I know you can change, I have seen your future. I will make you see it, too." As she reached out, he kept his face impassive, his own hands bound to the throne that only minutes before was an extension of his power and was now a prison. She smirked at his struggle, his impotence in the face of her own power to keep him under her control. He tried to keep his expression blank as rage built inside him. How could she do this? Imagining their power together, limitless, invincible, only furthered his rage that she was unwilling to come with him, to learn the power of the Dark Side. She had so little real training, had only heard one side of the possibilities. He had a lifetime, taught by one of the greatest masters of the Force known, descended from greatness. He would make her see, if it was the last thing he did. She had to; she was the key to his own ambitions.

She walked behind him, out of his sight as he twisted fruitlessly to keep her in his vision, the shackles holding fast. He listened carefully to her footsteps as she circled. The rattle of buckles, followed by the clatter of plastoid pieces, were all he heard, her armor joining his and that of his guards'.

When she re-entered his field of vision, she wore only the form-fitting red bodysuit and boots. Her gaze bore into his hostility. He felt her hand touching his, his fingers recoiling as though burned. She tugged off his glove from one hand, her gaze locked with his. Then her fingers between his. He clenched his teeth and she released him, only to repeat the action on the other hand. He took advantage of her closeness, grabbed her wrist and squeezed painfully hard.

"Release me now and I will let you live, even welcome your presence. Delay and I will show you the same mercy I have shown others who are disloyal." She struck a hard slap across his cheek with her other hand, then easily pulled her arm away from his grip, laughing mockingly at his surprise. His anger grew further, tainted now with fear. He pulled hard against the shackles, but they remained immovable, despite his strength. His throne was made of the strongest material in the galaxy, and her shackles felt as cold. His escape would take more than muscle, the Force now eluding him in his greatest time of need.

The hand that struck his face now returned, only this time softly stroking his reddened skin, her fingers tracing his scar, which vibrated with sensation, recalling the moment he received the injury that yielded it. The memory should have yielded pain, anger, shame, rage, but instead it evoked his connection to her, a closeness despite their opposition. Her gaze drifted from his eyes to the scar as she traced it, the warmth of her touch contrasting with the cold rigidity of the metal on which he sat. That same hand drifted downward to his neck, releasing the clasps of his cloak, then the tall collar of his tunic. She meant to expose him, to make him feel vulnerable. His clothes were worthless as protection, he knew, not like his armor. He also knew seeing him unclothed embarrassed her, made her uncomfortable with their bond, giving him the advantage.

He kept his gaze fixed on her, impassive as she continued, each buckle easily opening to her, until the tunic fell open to his waist. He moved his shoulders to allow the tunic to fall further. Unexpectedly, she only laughed, no embarrassment now. She retrieved an electro-dagger from the belt of a downed guard and cut the sleeves away. He felt the heat and vibration of the blade.

The sleeves beneath fell to the dagger even more easily than the tunic, leaving bare his skin to his wrists. She placed the dagger in the holster on her calf, then moved behind him, out of his sight once again. He felt her hands upon his shoulders, caressing them, whispering in his ear. "Leave all this behind, Ben. Come with me and start a new life, a free life, a life of peace, of kindness."

He closed his eyes and rolled his head back, her touch warm and her words soft. She took in the expanse of his neck. He felt her lips near his ear, then kisses making their way down his neck. The shock of the sensation travelled further down his body. He tried to put a stop to it, to halt his body's reaction, to disconnect from her, but she persisted, her hands now drifting from his shoulders down his chest to the waist of his trousers. He focused on her smell to try to drive disgust and revulsion. Like the rest of the filthy scum she lived with, she hadn't washed in many days and had sweated profusely in her struggle with the guard and with him.

"A life without soap or baths, apparently. I prefer to be clean, unlike you and your filthy friends."

She scoffed. "Only your skin is clean. Your actions are filth." He grunted and twisted, thrashing now, his metal cuffs chafing against his wrists. He would not give in to her attempts at a connection, not allow his body to respond to her, not allow her to derail his self-control.

"Get away," he hissed through clenched teeth.

"Once I get what I came for," she replied, coming around from behind him. "Not a moment sooner."

"I can give you anything you want, Rey. I will not come to you, you know that. I can give you anything else. Join with me and you'll have a fortune in jewels, energy crystals from Dantooine, or art from every culture in the galaxy. I can give you a palace on any planet you like, with a lake and an island. I could give your followers an entire planet to inhabit, undisturbed."

"After you massacre every being on it first? I won't live off others' misery. Unlike you, who seems to be fueled by it. Don't bother to negotiate, you don't have to do anything for me."

"But I do, Rey. You could have anything you wanted. Any pleasure could be yours, any power. Join me and I'll search for your past, find your family. They would live a life of unimaginable power and comfort, their every wish, your every wish, our every wish, fulfilled in an instant." If they were still alive.

This seemed to give her pause for a moment. "No, Kylo. Come to me."

Now confusion joined hatred, anger, and fear in him. "What do you want, Rey? Tell me, I can make it yours."

She only grinned and moved forward. "You know I can take whatever I want," she said, echoing his own words.

Author's note: Your review, public or in PM, is most welcomed.