There was a brief moment of awkwardness when his fingers squeezed hers for a fraction too long and she had to extract them, but he recovered well.

'How do we begin?' he asked, turning to face her with an arm draped casually across the railings, giving every appearance of being relaxed following the tense words they had just exchanged.

'You could start by giving my new lightsaber back,' she suggested, searching for a neutral subject.

'I don't have it.'

She was instantly annoyed. 'Liar. You stole it from my room on Ajan Kloss.'

'I don't have it here,' he clarified, cutting across her. 'It's on my shuttle. Why do you always expect me to bring weapons into truce situations?'

'Why did you steal it in the first place?'

'It called to me,' he explained simply. 'I was surprised you had something so dangerous just lying around. I wanted to study it so I borrowed it for a few days. You can have it back whenever you like. Now, if you insist.'

She snorted at that. 'I think the Resistance might notice you bringing your shuttle into a truce situation.'

'They don't need to know. We can go to it.'

She caught his meaning. 'We can travel through the Force?'

'I can teach you how it's done. If you don't mind a certain amount of physical contact.'

Until that moment she had conveniently forgotten the fact that a few short days ago she had spent some time in his arms, those full lips pressed to hers, that tongue filling the inside of her mouth with delicious sensation. Her heart gave an unwelcome thud and she could feel the flush rise into her cheeks. His dark eyes watched hers steadily, taking in the involuntary reactions that gave her away.

'How much physical contact?'

He shrugged, opened his arms but his attention flickered to her lips. 'Not enough to crash a Dreadnaught.'

She was absolutely sure he was thinking about the kissing too, and the heat in her face intensified. Her arms had been round his neck, her body swarming over his to the extent that she'd hooked her thigh around his leg, and he'd had to grab it to stop her falling over. She had lost any semblance of self control, throwing herself at him in frantic desire in response to a simple press of mouth on mouth. He must think she was desperate for him.

She took a tiny step forward, closed her eyes and then turned her head when she felt his embrace, her cheek rubbing the rough fabric of his tunic and coming to rest much closer to his armpit than his lips. The connection that hid inside her flared into being, accompanied by a palpable rush of exhilaration. His arms settled themselves comfortably around her back.

'This took me a while to master, so don't expect it to work right away,' he said into her hair. 'Focus on the link between us, concentrate on it as hard as you can and think about seeing me. Imagine what I look like, imagine what I sound like, imagine what I feel like and then use the connection to make it real. Imagine I'm standing right in front of you, and if you do it right, I will be.'

'That's not going to be very difficult,' she told the side of his chest.

She'd kept her arms flattened to her sides to indicate that she was only participating in this hug under duress but it wasn't really working. Today he smelt like clean clothes and sunshine, with a hint of coconut somewhere underneath, and the rumble of his chest when he spoke thrummed through her nerve endings. She was acutely aware of every part of his body, and just how close to hers it was.

He took a deep breath, her head moving as his lungs expanded and his arms tightened fractionally. 'Conceptually, what we're trying is the same thing. You've been on board my ship, imagine what it looks like, how white the hull shines in daylight, the sound of the ramp engaging, the smell of the engines.'

'The scars on the walls,' she murmured, thinking back. 'The smashed screens, the wires all over the floor, the way it's been eviscerated.'

'The minor cosmetic damage,' he corrected, rather sharply.

'The way it seems so sad.'

She was there. Something shifted with a blur too fast to register properly and when she blinked she was there, in the corridor outside the main passenger cabin with her fingertips pressed to the wall. She was alone, the shuttle was cold and empty, illuminated only by the red twilight of Dorumaa spilling through the windows. She wasn't sure how far behind her he was, but she guessed she probably didn't have a lot of time.

She strode over to the drawer that had been open on her last visit, yanked it hard to reveal his hoard of treasures. The melted helmet of course, the folded blade, which was not her primary objective, and the small pyramid shaped device for which he'd murdered the creature in the swamp. She grabbed it, expecting it to open immediately, before belatedly remembering that there was a trick to making it give up its secrets. She bent her head, attempted to bring the Force to bear but while she could feel it was listening, the right words slipped out of her grasp.

'It's a wayfinder,' he said, from somewhere close by. 'It's what you were looking for in my room isn't it? But how did you know what to look for? You're trying to open it – how do you know what to do? Who told you? You've been watching me, haven't you? Spying.'

She threw the device back in the drawer, realising her time was up. 'It's called surveillance.'

He was leaning against the wall with his arms folded, a frown on his face, although he seemed more curious than furious. 'It's called intelligence. This isn't the only thing you know that you shouldn't. Where I'd be before my coronation, that was another one – when you exploded a droid in my face. I was stuck in a bacta tank for days having those burns fixed. How did you know? There's a spy in the First Order isn't there – a Resistance agent on the inside. Who is it?'

He pushed off from the wall and she grabbed for the double lightsaber just in time, snapping it open with a twitch of her hand. He flung out an arm and his own weapon sailed across the room as he dropped into an opening stance, although he didn't turn it on. Her thumb moved automatically over the controls, finding the right one without any conscious effort and both red beams burst into being.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. 'I'm not fighting you,' he reminded her quickly.

He was frightened. She could see that, scent his sudden fear in the air. She had him on the run. The weapon felt so natural in her hands, lighter than her staff but as well balanced, fitting perfectly into her palm, an organic extension of her arm. She swished it experimentally in his direction and he moved, circling carefully in the direction of the door. She could beat him with this saber, she sensed. This weapon gave her power greater than any she had ever had, it had been made for her, it called to her. They were one.

This blade could help her accomplish her objective – there was no need to listen to any more of his whining about turning from the dark side, she could simply kill him and dismantle her enemies herself. This chance was what she had been waiting for.

She raised the saberstaff, focused and ready. Like the coward he was, he turned tail and ran and she had to track him off the ship and onto the narrow beach on which it had been parked. The red light from the double blades matched the twilight that reddened the sands, sands that would shortly be redder still with his blood. She prepared to strike.

'Everything he said was true,' her opponent muttered. 'You go straight to the dark, you don't even fight it.'

She swung into the attack and he was forced to ignite his paltry single blade to defend himself. The red staff whirled, a circle of glowing death and he fell back beneath it, barely able to counter in time. Her reach was so much longer now, her strength expanded beyond all limits, her intention sure. She studied his footwork carefully. Soresu, defensive. She had only to shift to Niman and she could take him easily. She flung herself into an acrobatic leap, feinting to the left before disarming him with a blast of the Force from her right hand. He sprawled on the sand, scrambling desperately away.

'Magnificent,' he said. 'What I wouldn't give to see you wearing black.'

She landed lightly, both hands manipulating the staff into a blur of deadly scarlet. She was going to take his head. He got back to his feet, lurching towards her, and with a burst of unexpected speed, ducked under her next strike and came up with both hands on her staff, forcing one end down until it hissed as it met wet sand. She put all her new found might into levelling the blade, baring her teeth at the effort of such a physical struggle. Head to head, only the staff separated them and he was so close to her that strands of his overly long, sweaty hair lashed against her forehead.

He didn't loosen his grip, but he glanced over, caught her eye and said cryptically, 'My turn.'

Then he let go, and, because she hadn't anticipated the move, she yanked the staff up so fast it flew out of her hands and catapulted away. She grunted with anger and summoned it back, but while she was distracted, he pounced.

A large hand grabbed the back of her head, throwing her forward, off balance and his lips latched onto her mouth, predatory and determined. She stumbled, but his other hand attached itself to her backside, hauling her roughly against him, unable to squirm away from the hot jab pressing into her belly. Her gasp of outrage was smothered by the tongue that forced its way between her teeth and took a tour of the soft spots on her palate, pausing only to probe deliberately against the places that made her shiver. The Force rose up inside her with a howl, re-establishing the connection between herself and her unwanted other half, and breaking whatever hold the Sith blade had exerted on her mind. She wasn't completely sure how it had happened but she was being kissed, ardently, passionately, by someone who knew what he was doing and wasn't holding back.

She wedged her hands against his chest, heaved him away and he staggered back, two spots of high colour on his cheeks, panting hard.

'Now that,' he said, running a hand through his hair. 'Was a distraction.'

'What happened?' She felt shaky and slightly sick, although how much of that was down to the Sith and how much was due to the fact that she could still taste him was unclear.

He straightened, held out a hand and waited for the bent blades to obey their instructions. 'You demonstrated that you can't be allowed anywhere near ancient dark side artefacts like this one. You could have killed me.'

'I think that was the idea.'

He examined the casing for damage, flipped open the hinge and toggled the on switch briefly. The blades hissed into life and she shuddered. 'Why does that thing affect me and not you?'

He turned the staff slowly through the air, the red illumination giving the angles of his face a more acute focus, an expression flitting through his eyes that was darker than she'd seen for a while. She fumbled for her belt but there was no weapon hanging from it.

'It does affect me. But I control it, I don't let it control me.' He switched the lightsaber off with a determined tap. 'Unlike you.'

'Then – thank you for saving me from the dark side.'

A startled expression shot across his face and disappeared.

A moment later, she did too, reappearing on the balcony of her bedroom amidst a swirl of ocean spray. Before he could follow her back she hurried into the bathroom, running water loudly into the bath to cut off any further attempt at conversation.

She sat on the side of the tub and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to soothe away the jagged aftermath of the last few minutes. Was that what it was like? Was that how easy it was to fall to the dark? She had heard a few faint whispers in Ochi's cave and the next thing she knew, she was trying to remove Ben's head with a Sith blade for no good reason apart from the fact that she could. He'd said she hadn't tried to stop it. That was exactly what Luke had said, more than a year ago. She didn't seem to have any defence against the dark, whenever she got too near it swallowed her up and this time she'd only been saved by her worst enemy – or whatever he was to her now.

She bent over, hugging her stomach. All that training, all the Jedi texts and the practising and the trying so hard to be strong and brave and true and for what – the very first encounter she'd had with the dark she'd failed. She dashed tears from her eyes with the heel of her hand. This was pathetic, crying in the middle of a bathroom but she couldn't seem to stop. She was a failure, flawed and broken – she might look like a Jedi on the outside but white robes and a blue blade didn't make her pure. There was darkness inside her just waiting to get out.

Her friends suspected it. She'd seen the way that Finn looked at her sometimes, when she'd enjoyed a demonstration a little too much, when she'd lifted someone into the air and kept them there just a fraction too long. The times when she'd been so frustrated that the Force had escaped her control and broken something, the times when she'd been so angry she'd had to disappear and hit out in private. She had nearly crashed a Dreadnaught into a planet and she'd been more bothered about kissing – what did that say about her claim to the light?

There was no one she could talk to, no one to help her work out where she'd gone wrong; Luke and Leia were both dead and no one else could possibly understand.

There was a light tap on the bathroom door. She didn't respond and after a decent interval, she heard another tap, slightly louder this time. She covered her face with her hands, trying to wipe away the mess of crying, or at least hide it from prying eyes. But the Force was an efficient lock pick and the catch disengaged with a snick that carried even over the rush of water.

'I don't want to talk to you,' she managed, although her voice was strangled and hoarse.

The door halted in its swing.

'Let me know when you do,' said the one person left in the galaxy who might be able to understand.