12/4/1

To say that Jon Frakes is a busy man is to understate the situation by a factor of at least a hundred.

Planning the First Year Party… Okay, that's… Not too bad, fiddly, detail-oriented, nothing he can't handle. Plus he's got about ten people under him he can trust to take care of a lot of the fiddly, detail-oriented bits. He's coming up with the grand plan, and then delegating.

Go through the current roster of the Order and figure out if anyone will be useful for a potential diplomatic corps. (He jots down a note to see if that, like many of the other things they test for when new recruits join, if that's something they can attempt to ascertain by testing. They probably can, just have to figure out what the right fucking questions are. He sighs at that and writes a few more lines of notes.) There's only six million of them, no problems, right?

Kylo tells him he may be getting him some help on that, soon. Something about a Threepio unit, who, apparently wants to meet him and decide for itself if he's good enough to work with. If he were less stressed out by this, he might be insulted, but right now, the possibility of help is too good to get fussy about the details.

Looking over the design specs of the next class of Order dreadnoughts, to figure out how to design palaces for them. Yeah… because tailoring, armor design, and ship architecture are just so similar to each other. (He's already booted that off to someone else. They'll give him sketches, and he'll work from there. He's also got a book on order. An actual book, with pages, big ones, filled with pictures of ships, lots and lots of pictures of ships. Once it gets here, he's barging in on Kylo, and taking up a lunch period to make him look at the damn thing and tell him what he likes. He makes another note, better damn well go find a book filled with pictures of actual fucking palaces, too, so he's got some clue as to what to stick inside the rooms he's going to have filling up these dreadnoughts.)

Thinking about dreadnought design, and the First Year Party, and the list of guests they're inviting, which is both bigger, and getting a much higher positive response rate, than last year's, has him thinking about another of his plans that Kylo liked, namely using the Supremacy as a huge, floating pile of secure, neutral space.

So, right this second, he's working on some sort of pamphlet talking about what they've got to offer, while looking at their staterooms, which are, in the most part, woefully under-decorated (fucking shells of naked gray metal with bloody cots and bolted-down bedside tables, also made of gray metal), and trying to turn the spaces the Supremacy will put their guests into advertisements for why, if any of these well-connected, powerful people who are coming to this thing, are ever in need of a place to work a deal, sign a treaty, or host something they don't want on their home territory, they should get in contact with a department that doesn't yet exist, but he'll have gotten into play by, at the latest (and likely also the earliest), the day before the party starts.

And it'd likely be a good plan if he had rates, or something like that, too. Because, figuring out what a secure neutral space should cost is just like costing out a wedding dress, right? (He makes his hand unclench from his hair. He's not going to go bald for this.)

It's as he's sitting there in his own office, typing, fast, on the proto-pamphlet, that he gets a summons from C8.

Because, apparently, he's not busy enough.

Apparently, stressed is radiating off of Jon, or Ren with his magic can feel it, because the first thing he says when Jon gets into his office is: "First of all, anyone in any department you think you can use, you can have. I'll get the orders written up for that."

Jon sighs. That should help. At the very least he can put some of the legal guys onto the pamphlet and advertising, and maybe some of the people in physical plant know something about decorating…

But Ren doesn't stop talking, there. "Jon, can I ask you a major favor?"

Jon raises an eyebrow and tries not to sigh, wondering what now Ren's come up with.

"I know I am already asking you to do vastly more than you should have to—"

A chill is going up Jon's spine because Ren looks nervous and that's never a good thing. "Am I going to hate this?"

"I really hope not." And there's nothing of a question in Ren's voice, as well as a little spark of interest in his eyes.

Jon relaxes a little and looks intrigued. "Ask."

"I've gotten Rey to agree to accompany me to the First Year celebrations—"

Jon's eyes light up. He knows why Ren called him. "She needs clothing." He's grinning.

"And she needs clothing."

He's rubbing his hands together, looking very pleased. Something fun and easy and he can just push everything else to the side for a bit and… "Oh yes, this is a favor I'm happy to do. When do I get to meet her?"

"Tomorrow."

"Excellent." That grin's looking very saucy. "So, you going to tell me about her?"

Ren swallows, and Jon wouldn't call that look on his face blind panic, but he's certainly radiating a deep well of unsettled feelings. "How about you meet her?"

Jon chuckles, very pleased. He's the first person on the Supremacy to meet the Master's Lady, and he's intending to enjoy it.

Ren takes a moment, writes out the orders, and hands the chit to Jon, who smiles even wider. Because tomorrow, he'll have more people to get on this.

12/5/1

Rey's pacing around Kylo's office, not exactly enjoying this. This being waiting for Jon to come. He's due in the next few minutes.

Kylo's watching her. Part of him wants to say, "It's okay, you don't have to do this." Part of him is aware that she'll run away if he does. "You'll like him." That's true and doesn't give her… permission… he scoffs at that idea, to leave.

"He's from an Imperial family. His mom makes fancy dresses. He's been trained since birth in good manners and how to behave properly. He's going to take one look at me and laugh."

"He is not."

She glares at him. Then she marches over, holding her hand out to him. "I have chipped nail lacquer." Her nails stayed nice for a good two days after they got back from Gidi Secundus, and then she built something without gloves on, and that was that. Now the pretty purple and coral lacquer is a collection of raggedy chips, and she doesn't know how to get them off other than chipping it further. "He probably comes from a place where women never do anything that can chip their lacquer."

Kylo keeps his eyes and expression even as he says, "He comes from thirty-three decks up and twenty sections over. And he's an Order officer. He's been in my office when I had entrails hanging off my desk. I'm sure he can handle chipped nail lacquer."

She glares at him.

Then they hear the door open, along with C8's voice. "Lt. Colonel Frakes to see you, sir."

Frakes takes one step in, and stares.

Kylo thought he'd heard every sound a man could make. Battle cries, yells of pain, shouts of triumph, the gurgle of a lungshot last breath, the wet, squishy sound of life exiting along with the contents of a man's bowels, long laughs, hard laughs, mocking words, sharp, cutting derision, the strangled breath of realizing you've stepped in it, the almost tangible fear of failure cutting a word short… All of it.

But he's never heard… this… before.

It's a sharp, high-pitched, inhaled breath, almost an eeep! sound, followed by a rapturous, "Oh GODS, she's PERFECT!"

He was honestly not aware that a grown man could even make that sound, let alone that it'd come tumbling out of Frakes' mouth as soon as he saw Rey.

"Oh… Please… Tell me there's going to be a wedding, and tell me I'm going to get to design it!" His eyes are glowing with pleasure, and he's moving closer, trying to take Rey's hands, but she's moving away from him, retreating, staring at him in something between shock and horror, a very soft whimpering sound, that save when she's had nightmares, he's never heard out of her, either. "It'll be stunning. You're just… perfect! He'll be in all black, with a blaze of silver, and I'll dress you in sheets of silken pearl, silver accents, we'll deck out the ship, drape it in swaths of black and pearl and everything shimmering and stark. God, looks at you! You were built for this, we'll put him in something sharp, tailored, structured, and you'll be covered in flowing silks, they'll look liquid next to his solid, black and white and… Ohhhhh! Have you seen Corinithina Orchids? They grow in midnight blue and silvery gray, we'll twine them through your hair and make a belt of them for the dress and-"

And with that Rey vanishes.

Kylo blinks slowly, rubs his mouth, thinking dryly at his retreating love I don't think he noticed the nail lacquer, (He can feel the rude gesture she aims back at him.) and then looks at Frakes, who appears ready to disembowel himself from the shame of it.

He gently touches the scar on his face. "She did that to me. She killed half of the Praetorian Guard. But I think you're the first man to ever scareher."

Frakes is wincing. "I'm sorry…"

"Perhaps a little less enthusiasm next time."

But he doesn't want to be less enthusiastic. He wants Kylo to feel it, too. "I know you can do it. You've done it before. Just…" Frakes moves closer, he doesn't know how it works, but he knows Kylo can do it, so... "See it."

Kylo lets Frakes' image move into his mind, and it's breathtaking. It's… a spectacle. It's the court of an Emperor decked out for a celebration bright enough to make the stars themselves seem dim.

"My mother and sisters… all they do is weddings. I know I've told you about them. The most beautiful… You can see it… It'll be… Perfect."

Kylo nods. Frakes is looking at him, eyes bright and eager. Jon can feel how much Kylo wants this, but he's still nervous about asking, nervous about the first word. He's been invited to use Kylo's name, but he's wary about it, still…

"Kylo… Let me go back to them. No one, not me, not anyone else in the galaxy makes a better dress than my mother. She's got the eye and the touch and… for your bride…"

"You're getting ahead of me, Jon."

"Oh shit!" falls out of Jon's mouth in a single breath. "I… shit." He cringes, covering his mouth with his hand. Kylo can feel that Jon's sure he's put his foot so far into his mouth he's kicking his own ass with it.

"Not in that direction. We… Not like that."

His eyes go wide. "Is she already Lady Ren?"

Kylo brushes that off with, "Yes. On any level that matters."

Jon's grinning so wide he's in danger of spraining his jaw. "Except, maybe, an actual wedding?"

"That's a developing situation."

"You mean you want a wedding of some sort, and you haven't talked her into it?" Which would make Rey running away make a hell of a lot more sense.

"Yes." And now Jon's smirking as well as grinning. "This… It's just the dinner," Kylo says.

"Right, you told me that. The First Year Celebration." Jon flushes with pleasure at the trust Kylo's showing him. "But this isn't going to just be one dress. You bring her to one dinner, and then she doesn't show up at the next one everyone talks. And just like you've got clothing for these things, she's going to need clothing. And for more casual settings, and… she'll need jewels, and… shoes… and foundation garments… and… Let me go to my mother. She'll know what to make, and we've got so much better fabric at home. Your lady isn't made for stiff wools and armor plates."

Kylo smirks at that. "Actually, a suit of armor for her, at least as good as mine if not better," Jon understands that whatever he makes for Rey better damn well deflect any and everything that comes in contact with it, "is something I hope you'll make. But for this, make some sketches. Not for a wedding gown. Nothing with marks for the Order on it." He pulls the token out from under his tunic. "This mark, you can incorporate."

Jon's seen it before, but this is the first time he's had the chance to really look, see it. "What's that?"

"The mark of the Maji."

"I don't know what that is."

"No. Maybe fifty people do now, but your grandchildren will." Kylo tucks the disk back under his tunic.

Jon decides not to press it. Not now. "Your casual clothing... That's what you wear when you visit her?"

Kylo nods.

"And she's not a fan of useless, fancy things?"

"Not generally."

"May I…" Frakes is looking at where the token is under Kylo's clothing. He takes it off and hands it over. Frakes takes a moment really looking at it. "Is the cage part of it, or is that just how it stays on the string?"

"How it stays on."

Frakes nods. He hands it back to Kylo. Kylo can feel the ideas whirling around in Frakes' head, and he realizes he hasn't given permission to leave. "Go… See your mother and sisters… bring your fabrics back… Make your sketches. But you've got to convince her she wants to wear them. And… may I suggest more focus on the fact that that's a living woman with a full set of feelings and opinions, and not a doll you get to dress up."

Frakes nods. "Noted. Do I call her…" He leads, but Kylo doesn't fill in the blank, so Jon tries, "Lady Ren? Mistress?"

"Ask her that when you see her next. She'll probably tell you to call her Rey."

"Yes, Sir."

Kylo's eyes narrow a little, and he curtly shakes his head. "You've already used my name once this conversation, don't go back to 'Sir.' As long as we're on our own, I'm Kylo, and you're Jon and… That's just it."

"Yes, Kylo."

"Okay," Kylo takes a breath. "Let's see if I can get her to come back."

This time Jon does his best to be less enthusiastic. He doesn't actually squee, but the delight is clear on his face. He looks to Kylo, "Do you want to be here for this, we're mostly just going to talk about what she likes wearing."

"Uh…" Rey says, "I'm right here."

Jon smiles at her. "You are, but he's my Master, so…"

Rey doesn't sigh. She can feel Jon's paying attention to the line of command, and that Kylo is the only person on this ship who outranks her, according to Jon, but… He does, so he's asking Kylo what he wants, not what she wants.

Kylo looks to Rey. She shrugs. Part of her would find this easier if he were here. Part of her knows that this is the easiest, softest person on this ship, and learning how to deal with him, one on one, is part of… becoming Lady Ren.

Kylo stands up, gently kisses her, and then crosses his room, picking up a few of his data pads. "I've got more reports to read than I have time to read them." Then he withdraws to his office.

Jon's glowing at her. "I'm Jon. I'm sorry I was too much last time, but…" he sighs, looking at her with soft eyes, sizing her up, "You really are perfect. Every woman in the galaxy is going to want to be you once they see you."

Rey's not sure what to do with that, so she ignores it, curling her fingers in so her nails don't show, and says, "I'm Rey."

"Hello, Rey. I usually put together dark shapes made of stiff fabrics designed to make the person in it look as big, square, and imposing as possible. Granted, these days he's got me moving far afield from that. Either way, it's been years since I've had the chance to do something fun."

"A dress for me is… fun?"

He's grinning, wide and happy. The fact that she can feel he's intending to really enjoy this is helping to set Rey at ease. "A dress… If you'll let me, more than one, and some just here and there and about clothing. If you're going to be seen here regularly, and if… Like he has a different wardrobe for when he's with you, you're going to need one for when you're here, assuming you want to go outside that door." He nods to the door Kylo just exited.

"You made the clothing he wears to my town?"

Jon nods. "That was fun, too, but a different fun. Men's clothing pretty much all looks the same, and the only real differences is just what size. He's huge. It's a good thing he's not in our uniform. I'd have had a terrible time making one look right on him."

Rey has a little half smile on her face. "We tried to get him some clothing on Gidi Secundus. It was… interesting, and he came away from it swearing he was never clothing shopping again."

Jon smirks at that, chuckling. "His shoulder-bicep-waist-thigh ratio is rare."

"So we found." Rey's thinking more about what Jon's said to her. "Why do I need new clothing for just being up and about around here?"

Jon swallows, eyeing her current outfit, trying to figure out a polite way to put it. "Uh…" She's in her winter garb. Thick boots, long trousers, a long-sleeved turtleneck shirt, a tunic that comes to mid-thigh, and a collection of belts around her waist. He rubs his lips together. "It's not that the style is an issue," because it's not. It's not exactly pretty, but if she wanted, he could make her a copy of what she's wearing now. It'd look fairly similar to Kylo's command blacks, just in lighter, warmer colors. "it's…" it comes out in a fast rush, "the fabric is rough and cheap and worn, the construction is shoddy, the fit is off, and it would look like Kylo can't afford to dress you better, and that would look bad."

Her eyebrow arches. "What I wear reflects on him?" Her reflecting badly on him washes over her in a huge, nervous-making wave. Her teeth grit. This is a huge chunk of why this scares her so much.

"Yes. I mean… that's true at your home, right? What he wears reflects on you? That's why he's got his not-Master clothing, right?"

Rey's never thought about it that way, but… It's probably a way to view it. "So… what does this… need to look like?"

"Style-wise, no one cares. You can look as masc or femme or whatever as you like. You're not required or even encouraged to wear one of our uniforms, but whatever it is you like, please let me make sure it fits and it's good fabric."

Rey looks at what she's wearing, put together because the pattern was easy, and it's warm, and thinks about what she used to wear. So much of that outfit was about looking like the child they left behind, and the rest of it was just bits and bobs she grabbed over the years. Besides the few dresses she's picked when shopping with Kylo, she's never put anything on herself because of some sense of style.

"What do women wear here? When they're off-duty."

Jon's about to say, "Whatever they like," but then he understands what she's saying. She doesn't know how women dress. He's wondering where she's from, and how Kylo met her, and why she doesn't know stuff like this, but… Maybe the Maji thing is some sort of ascetic group? That could explain it. And… He glances around at Kylo's all black on black aesthetic, that could explain a lot of this, too. "Oh. Uh… Have you ever been outside these rooms?"

She smirks a bit. "Once."

He's got the sense that once means something, and then remembers Kylo's comment about Rey having killed half the Praetorian Guard. He swallows, hard, and then says, "Well, it'll reflect badly on him if you're wandering about with him in shoddy clothing, but no one watches my companions or makes any judgements about them. Come on. Let's go for a walk. The F deck is officer housing and recreation, and there will be women there, in all sorts of off-duty wear. It should give you more an idea of what women wear here."

Rey nods. "Thank you."

Kylo raises an eyebrow at them as they head past him, toward the throne room, and the wider, outside world of the Supremacy, but he trusts Jon, knows Rey can handle herself, so all she has to say is, "Fact-finding mission."

He nods, and returns to his datapad.

The Supremacy feels different.

It hadn't occurred to her that would be true, though, if she had thought about it, she would have assumed that it would have had to be true. No Snoke. There's a palpable edge of that. Happier, more relaxed troops. More troops.

"How many are on here, now?"

"Party soon, people are starting to come in for that, and we're finally past where we were when the bitch fucked us over," even without Force sensitivity Rey would have shivered at how much anger is in those words. She's never thought to ask Kylo if he's mentioned who she used to be. The idea that that might be an issue being something that's never occurred to her. Something to talk about later. "So, a bit over three million of us here right now. Should be close to four point five by the first."

She whistles a little at that. It's one thing to know the kind of numbers Kylo commands. It's another to feel the thrum of their minds and emotions all buzzing about them.

"How many can you fit in here?"

"Full complement is twenty-five million, and close to a six billion kilotons of cargo/ships. Wingtip to wingtip is sixty kilometers. At its thickest, we're three klicks wide, and twenty klicks deep. If the Supremacy were a city, it'd be a large one."

Rey can believe that. "How do you even get from one side to the other?"

"Elevators for up and down. Trams for lateral. Most people spend most of their time in one section, though. D, E, and F decks are at the middle of the ship and extend all the way through. That way our people can live close to their stations."

"Oh."

Jon leads her to one of the elevators. She's fairly sure Kylo has a different throne room than Snoke did, and that this isn't the elevator she was in where all of this really got started, but it looks the same as that one did, and the ride feels similar.

"That's not Snoke's throne room, was it?"

Jon shakes his head. "Kylo chose his own rooms. Snoke's were more forward facing, less well-protected by the rest of the ship."

"Ah."

"We're actually pretty close to the underside of the ship, right now, below the loading bays, facing the engine array. It's an unusual location, so if anyone tried to slam a ship into his throne room, they likely wouldn't aim for the right part of the ship."

The elevator comes to a stop, and the doors open. What's in front of them is not the sort of thing Rey expected to see. She expects black hallways and black walls and black ceilings and mile after mile of men and women in white armor and lots of cold, hard electronics and… all of that is true, just not on the D, E, or F decks.

"Welcome to the F-deck," Jon says. "Sixty klicks wide end to end. Right now we're in the market zone for this subsection. We've got two and a half klicks of housing, and then half a klick of markets, and then another two and a half of housing, and on and on. Pretty much everything you could want or need is located here, somewhere. The restaurants, shops, and theatres are open around the clocks. People go on and off duty at all times, so things never shut down. Though it does get quiet around first watch. For some reason, most humans seem to prefer to be asleep then, and we're still seventy percent plus human."

It occurs to Rey, that this might not be the most populated city she's ever been in, but it's certainly the largest.

"Most of the shops are chains. One every few markets. But, I'm thinking, you're a fairly standard size, and if you want to blend in…" He gestures to the market around him. "Look around, and then we can go shopping."

"I don't have any money." Well, she does, in the account she shares with Ben Amidala, but her credit stick is back in Lirium right now, and most of that money is either spent and waiting for transfer or earmarked for another project at their home.

Jon thinks about that for a moment. Lady Ren will never need credits on this ship. Anything she likes will be given to her. But today, now, here, she's just his friend, out for a bit of a stroll and some sightseeing. "I do, and he's more than good for reimbursing me."

She looks around. They're in a massive courtyard, filled with stalls and shops. There are benches and areas where people are playing some sort of game. A few trees are in planters, with some kind of flowers around them. Toward the edges of what she can see, there are places selling food, and between the food shops are open areas filled with tables and chairs.

"Kylo said no one is allowed in the kitchens. I sort of assumed there was a huge cafeteria or something."

"There is. Twenty of them, actually. Twelve on the D deck and eight on the E deck. Enlisted housing down there. They've got shops and markets, too, but you pay out of pocket at the shops, and the canteens are free. Officers usually get food delivered if they're ordering from the canteens."

Rey's nodding absently, looking around. Everywhere, walking around, moving through, sitting at the benches and cafes, relaxing by the game courts, playing on the game courts, are people. Tons of them. In every shape, size, and species she can identify. Everything Kylo's ever said about how everyone in one of those masks was a person is hitting her, really hard, and she's got a feeling there had to be something like this on the Starkiller, too.

Jon's not noticing that. He is noticing that they're fairly close to a popcorn vender, and it smells really good, and… "Do you want a snack? Something to munch on while we people watch?"

"Uh, yeah, sure."

He gets them a bag of salty-sweet, which is his favorite. Crispy, salty, buttery popcorn covered in burnt sugar and milk chocolate.

After a bite, Rey is rapidly coming to the conclusion that popcorn is a miracle, and that as soon as they get out of winter, they're going to grow a lot of it, because this needs to be part of her semi-regular diet.

Jon's chuckling at that, enjoying watching her enjoy this so much.

"Never had it before?"

"Never even imagined it."

Jon shakes his head a little. "I know he's never been here before, but maybe one day, he might put his off-duty clothing on, and just try taking a stroll. Wild and crazy idea, you could do it with him." Jon decides, in an effort to encourage this, he might, in his copious spare time, make sure Kylo's got some of his casual clothing, in black.

Rey chuckles a bit at that. "Maybe."

Jon jiggles the popcorn bag. "It comes in five other flavors."

"Probably?"

"That's better." Jon starts asking questions about their home, and Rey's amazed at how easy he is to talk to. Then she remembers something Kylo said to her about how Jon had told her that being effortlessly interesting and interested is a learned skill, so she asks him, "Was learning how to do this difficult?"

He blinks. One moment she was telling him about microfarms, and the next she's asking about learning something.

"I'm sorry, I'm not following."

She half shrugs, taking another bite of the popcorn, as they watch people wandering around them. "Kylo told me you told him that being interested is a learned skill."

Jon offers her a somewhat embarrassed smile. "It is. That said, I'm also genuinely interested in what you're doing. He's…" Jon licks his lips, and Rey can feel he's not sure about saying this.

"Go on…"

"He's… not like anyone else I've ever known, and… I don't want to pry, but… I'd like to know him, and you, better, so…"

She pats his hand. "And I'd like to know you better, too. And, I think you'd find, if you just asked, he'd probably like talking to you. He can get pretty lonely."

Jon nods. "I've felt that. Still… It's intimidating."

It's been a long time since Rey found Kylo intimidating, but she can see how Jon might. "He's spent too long being feared by people who shouldn't have. He responds well to people who want good things for him not being scared of him. His favorite one of the kids is Jacen, the one who's not scared of him."

"Kids?" Jon says. "What kids? You have kids?" The idea that the two of them have children, let alone children old enough for fear and fearlessness to be part of the equation shocks Jon to his core.

"Not… personally. Yet. How much has he told you about what we do?"

"Just that you're Maji. I'm not entirely sure what that is. Something to do with the Force, right? Like Jedi?"

Rey nods slowly at that. "Yeah. Like Jedi… sort of. Jon, the next time you have an evening off, get your butt over to his rooms, and have him bring you home for dinner. Come see what it is we do. I can talk about it all day, but you'll get a better idea of it by seeing it."

"I'd like that. Speaking of like," he gestures to the people in front of them. "Are you seeing anything that looks interesting?"

"Maybe. It… feels weird to think of clothing without having to think about how warm, practical, and hard-wearing it is."

He nods. "I can see that. One perk of living on a ship, the weather is going to be the same all day, every day, for as long as you're here. You don't have to worry about being too cold or too warm or anything like that."

"I could get used to that."

"As for hard-wearing," he smiles a little, "one of the perks of good fabric is that it'll last well-nigh forever. Buy some things today just for blending in, and then let me design outfits for you. I promise, you won't be able to come up with anything that'll damage them."

Rey likes that idea, very much. "You know, we do a lot of our own sewing at home. If you ever wanted to teach a class on how to do that…"

He's looking at her outfit and seeing it in an entirely new light. "How much of this is homemade?"

"Everything you can see but the jacket, boots, and belts. We're not set up for real leatherworking, yet."

"Ah… Yes… It's…" Well, that explains a lot. "You learned from a book?"

"Exactly. Kylo offered to help, but he's so busy, I didn't want to waste his time on this…"

He doesn't exactly wince, but a lot of the construction mistakes he's seeing are making sense. Then he realizes the first bit of what she said. "He sews?"

"Not the way you do, but, once upon a time, he did."

Jon blinks at that, tucking it away for something to ask about. "I may take you up on those lessons, if I ever get any free time again."

She smiles. "I know he's got you busy right now, but, if you do, I'd appreciate it. We've got twenty-two children right now, and we're working on teaching them… Well, a bit of everything really."

Jon blinks. "Twenty-two?"

Rey smiles. "I think you'll enjoy the visit."

It's a lot of people.

Rey does a little math in her head. If there are three million plus people on this ship right now. And if one out of twenty of them is an officer that's… Something like up to 150,000 people live on this deck.

And it really doesn't sound like a lot until you're in the middle of them, and then it's a lot.

It's also a lot of… women. She feels odd saying it, but… She doesn't remember seeing this many women when she was here before. Okay, yes, no way to tell with Stormtroopers, and the only reason she knew Phasma was a woman was Finn told her, but…

"There are a lot of women here."

Jon smiles a little. "Yep."

(She can feel he's just enjoying the view, and hasn't gotten what she means by that.) "Uh… I… don't remember this many ladies being part of the Order."

Jon blinks. "Oh… Yeah, right. Uh… I think, official recruiting numbers are thirty-five percent women and sixty-five percent men, and unfortunately dropping. We get a lot of ladies, but more men, and we're not sure why. On some planets those numbers reverse, especially slave planets, and there are a lot of species where that's true, too, but for free recruiting of humans we get more men. Snoke's men took babies at will, so our numbers used to be closer to 55-45…"

He can see Rey's curious about why the imbalance was still there.

Jon sighs. "Uh… no allowances were made for physical differences, so fewer women made it through the physical training."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

She's looking around. "It's a lot."

That's when Jon realizes what she's seeing. "Oh… Yeah. Uh… not all of them are officers. Spouses, friends, children. Rank hath its privileges, and if you're an officer you're likely to get off board and may end up bringing someone back with you. Officer families also have this use of this deck. Enlisted people can marry, but they don't have private rooms, so it's less… everything… about being married."

"Why?"

"Why?" Jon doesn't get what she means.

"You're in a ship built for 25 million, you've got less than a quarter of that, why don't enlisted people have their own rooms?"

Jon blinks. "I'll add it to the to-do list."

After munching, and walking around a bit to look at different shops and styles of clothing, Rey does wander into a few places to buy things.

As Jon's paying for a pair of decidedly less than practical boots, knee-high ones in a very soft, light gray suede, the sort of boot that would be a mess in about twenty steps if they had to go anywhere with anything like dirt, or worse, shin-deep snow, the merchant, who apparently knows him, says, voice low and conspiratorial, when he thinks Rey's not paying attention, "You scouting the other side of the ship?"

But she is paying attention, so she sees the annoyed roll of Jon's eyes. "Just pack them up nicely."

"Yes, sir."

As they're walking out, she gives him a questioning look, and he shakes his head. "Anyone who's been here long enough knows that I used to be married, to a man." He touches the box with the boots in it. "Lane liked a good pair of boots, too. I'd get them for him as presents."

"Oh. I'm… sorry?"

He shrugs a little. "They're good memories."

"I take it you'd still be married if you could."

"I would, but I can't, so, that's that." He looks to the next shop. It's got a variety of women's clothing. "Anything of interest?"

"Let's see." Rey knows to drop the topic, so she does.

After two hours, Rey's got a collection of comfortable, functional, and as per Jon's desires, expensive, clothing.

And Jon's got an idea of what Rey likes. He's made sure to photograph everything she's bought, preferably with her wearing it, (including one of the sarees, which live here, because Ren's rooms have closet space, which is not a thing at their cottage, and seeing the sarees, he also noticed Ren's white suit, and that gets some ideas for the wedding he's not supposed to be designing a dress for. Nope, not a dress. But a fucking suit? Oh yeah! Ren said exactly nothing about that, and when the time comes, that man is going to make people's eyes bleed he's going to be so well-dressed.) so that when he goes to visit his mum, he's got everything she could want for working on good sketches for Rey.

And after two hours, Rey also has more of an idea of what she likes. It's sort of similar to food. So long went by without her ever having to factor in any level of preference into what she wore that she never developed a habit of taking her preferences into account. And this afternoon, all she had to do was try things on and work on developing preferences.

Jon was right, when off-duty, the people, ladies, of the Order wear more or less whatever they like, and that's a wide array of clothing. Unlike Naboo or Gidi Secundus, once their uniforms come off, there's no unifying idea of what constitutes style among the officer class of the Order.

The Hux-method grads tended to move in more utilitarian fashions, wearing outfits that looked a lot like their uniforms. The Palpatine officers, and, as Jon identified when she asked, the wives, friends, and older daughters of officers, wear everything from very structured, very formal suits, to light, flowy dresses, to soft, comfy, slouchy outfits of knit and jersey.

The near uniforms and suits held no interest for Rey. Long flowy dresses she certainly looked at, and touched, but had a difficult time imagining wearing them. Jon noticed that, and has a sense that that's something she may like, but doesn't feel like she belongs in. And having gotten that sense, he's decided his personal mission is to make sure she feels like she belongs in the longest, flowiest dress made of the finest silk he can get his hands on. (He doubles down on that mental promise when she shows him the sarees and her eyes light up as she touches the silk.)

She bought trousers and leggings. A few snug and tailored, but not tight dresses, some with sleeves, some without, that fall to mid-thigh, to wear over the leggings. The boots. Two sets of shoes. Several soft and flowy shirts and sweaters to go with the trousers. A few vests. Her color pallet is what Jon would call eclectic, but none of them look bad on her, so he's not going to tell her not to put a long rosy-peach knit dress with cool gray-green leggings, a gray blue vest, and gray boots.

They've just about finished up with the clothing, when she says, "The women wear cosmetics, don't they?"

He glances around. When they're in uniform, they generally don't, but in their off-hours wear, they do. He nods. "Looks like it, but I'm going to be near useless for that. Beyond a little eyelash darkening, which you don't need, I don't wear them myself."

"Okay."

Kylo's not sure what he expected was going to happen when Jon and Rey got together for this. Probably sort of what happened when Jon made him his clothing. He took measurements asked about colors, and then clothing appeared.

He and Rey returning with bags, and boxes, and stuff would appear to indicate this isn't working the way he was expecting.

They wander off, chatting amiably, back into his room, and of course, now he's got the fucking soundproofing of the gods in there, so he can hear exactly nothing of what's going on, though Rey appears to be enjoying it.

She's nervous, though, too. A little undercurrent of it.

Okay?

Enough, it'll hold for tonight.

That's ominous.

Nah. Don't want to be dwelling on it now.

Okay.

Jon's got pictures. He's got measurements. He's got three days of "leave." (Meaning he'll be running everything from his comm and data pads.) He knows what sorts of colors Rey likes. He's ready.

"So, I'll see you in a few days. My mom and I'll make up some sketches. You decide what you like. I'll get the base shape put together, and she'll come here for the final cut and finish."

"This sounds like a lot of effort," Rey says.

He smirks. She's got no idea. Mirina Frakes hasn't left Coruscant in… Thirty-five years probably. People come to her. No one's had the clout to get her off world since the fall of the Empire, and honestly, for anyone short of the Emperor's Mistress, she didn't move.

But for the Master's bride? For her son's career… Well, a day or two away from her shop can be arranged.

"For you, it'll happen. I'll make sure she brings one of my sisters, too. You want someone who knows something about cosmetics, and they do."

Rey looks a little off balance.

"It's a lot, isn't it?"

She nods. "Yeah."

"Do you mind if I ask… I mean…" He's biting his lip. "How do you… not know any of this?"

"Born and raised on Jakku."

"Oh." And that tells him almost all he needs to know, but starts another mystery. "Wait, how do you know him, then?"

Rey feels nervous about that. "Takodana. We met on Takodana. He… noticed that… I'm… Force sensitive, too. And… uh… eventually, I sort of… helped with the coup against Snoke."

Jon blinks, remembering something Kylo said that he hadn't really heard. "You killed half the Praetorians, and… his face…"

"Uh, yeah."

"Intentionally?"

"Yes. You don't accidentally kill half of Snoke's guards."

"No… His face… I mean, you didn't accidentally hit him, right?"

"Uh. No. That was intentional, too."

Jon's just staring at her. He's rubbing his lips together, and finally says, "So, he's uh… not kidding about getting some real armor for you, then, is he?"

She shakes her head. "He's really not."

"Okay. I'll give you the same answer I gave him on that one. I want to see you fight before designing that."

"Oh… Sure. My staff is at home, but…"

Jon holds up his hands. He's not just at his limit, he's a bit beyond it. "Not today. I've enjoyed this, but I've pushed the rest of my duties to the side, and need to get back to them."

"Of course."

"Go well?" Ren asks when Jon comes out.

"I think so. She's got out and about around here clothing, and didn't run away from me this time, so… Probably."

"Sounds good to me."

Jon's looking Ren up and down, trying to imagine him at home. "She… invited me to your place for dinner when I have a free evening."

Ren blinks at that. "Oh."

"Is that… okay?"

"Uh. Yes. Sure. Just…" Ren isn't exactly panicking, but he does look a bit unsettled.

"Just…" Jon leads. Normally, he'd drop it, but if he's going to work on not fearing Ren, he'll work on it.

"Home is… different."

"How so?" Jon asks, genuinely curious.

Ren glances around his office. "Every inch of it isn't black, among other things."

Jon smiles at that. "I'll let you know. Probably not until after the First Year Celebrations."

"Okay."

"Well…" Kylo says as he heads in to see Rey. "Looks like you had fun."

"Maybe. I didn't hate it."

"That's something." He stares at her, willing her to talk. "I can feel something else is up."

Rey opens her mouth, and feels really bizarre saying this, but… "Jon's husband was killed by the Resistance."

Kylo nods. He's aware of that.

She spends another moment just looking at him, but he's not getting it.

And that's when it finally, really, sinks in for both of them how deeply Leia and Han and Luke shaped Ben-who-would-eventually-be-Kylo. Kylo ran away. He joined Snoke. He fought with the First Order. He, never, ever internalized the idea that he and they weren't the bad guys, or that they didn't deserve anything that came their way.

Not really. He can talk about it. He can use it defensively. But, it's this moment, right here, right now, when it's just starting to occur to him, that possibly Jon might have some issues with getting to know everyone who's left in the Resistance. And, maybe, like Finn and Rose, he might not be enthusiastic about his Master sleeping with the enemy.

Because, maybe, possibly Jon didn't join the First Order thinking of it as Evil Incorporated. And, just possibly, Jon doesn't think he painted a target on his own back, begging everyone in the galaxy to kick him as hard and often as possible because of it.

"Oh." It's one syllable, and it falls from his lips, as all of that starts to fall into place.

"Yeah. I told him we met on Takodana, you noticed I was Force sensitive, and I eventually helped you with Snoke's coup, and… uh… cut your face in half, intentionally, along the way."

"He already knew that part from me, but… Shit."

She waits a beat before saying, "What do you want to do?"

"You mind giving us… an hour or so?"

"Now, you're going to tell him, now?"

"I think I can get him before he leaves." He offers her a half-smile. "I'd rather take the pain fast, than spend time dreading it later."

To say that Jon is startled when the chime on the door of his personal chambers rings, and he finds Ren standing there, waiting for him, is to miss the point of this.

Startled does not even begin to explain the magnitude of the sensation going through his mind right now.

Gobsmacked, if he'd ever heard a word along those lines, would probably get the idea across, but it's not a phrase he's ever heard, so…

"Kylo… I…" he leaps out of his doorway, inviting him in. "I… didn't know you even knew where my rooms were. Do you need something, or…"

For a moment, Ren's just looking around. As a Lt. Colonel, Jon has his own suite. A combination of a bedroom, refresher, sitting room/kitchenette, and office. The colors are cool, blues and grays and tans, with a few deep greens to break the muted colors. To Ren's left, there's a collection of chairs and sofas, a coffee table, arranged for gathering with friends, in the middle of the table is a sphere with four fish in bright orange and coral colors, flitting around. Throughout the suite there are planters with some sort of dark green grass in them.

It's very warm and bright and… It looks like… well, an actual living space designed by someone with taste, style, and the sort of life where he/they do something other than just collapse into an exhausted heap at the end of the day. Other than the fact that it's the same basic shape as Kylo's room, it couldn't be more different.

Jon sees Ren find what he's looking for a second into looking around Jon's room. Pictures, on the wall, of Jon and another man. He's taller than Jon, with dark-caramel colored skin and black hair. There's one shot, with both of them in their formal uniforms, holding hands, looking at each other, their wedding picture. The other shots are less formal. The two of them together, goofing around, or playing. There's one with the two of them on a beach somewhere, lounging about, comfortable and relaxed with each other.

"Your husband?" Ren asks.

"Yes, that's Lane. Kylo… My ship's ready, and if I'm going to get anything done…"

Ren swallows. "Uh… I want you to know that this is something that just, never, occurred to me. I… I was raised by Leia Organa and Luke Skywalker, and… And… Shit… Even as a member of it… There was always the idea that the First Order was wrong. That we were the bad guys. The enemy. And… The idea that everyone else here doesn't feel that way, it's… Only just occurring to me, now, and…"

Jon's staring at Ren, feeling like something very, very bizarre and frightening is about to happen.

"And Rey realized, talking to you, that… You might not have felt that way, and… Uh… point of view matters, and…"

And Ren's doing that thing where he chews on his lip, and clenches his jaw, and rubs his index fingers against his thumb and… nervous and scared and unhappy is just pouring off the man right now. And Jon's never really contemplated it, but, it's likely that Ren's Force is why when he's feeling nervous and off, everyone around him feels nervous and off, too. "Okay, you're starting to scare me, Kylo."

Ren takes a deep breath and says, fast, "I met Rey because she'd befriended a droid that had a map the Resistance needed, and Snoke wanted. I was trying to get the droid from her, but she'd seen the map, too, so I decided to take her instead. I could read her mind, and I never had that kind of skill with a droid. And… Uh… That didn't work exactly the way I was expecting it to. Or the way she was expecting it to. When we killed Snoke, she was actively trying to get me back to the Resistance, to the Jedi, Luke and my mom, and I was trying to get her to my side, and…"

Jon blinks. "Oh." He blinks again. Rey was Resistance… He feels a little flash of… something… he's not sure what, exactly, at that. Then he thinks about where they are, and who he's talking to, so… "Uh… But… I mean, you won, right? She joined our side."

Ren half-winces. "To an extent. And… she did, too. We're balancing. Moving away from The First Order and the Resistance. Burned it all down and started over, but… She wasn't part of Holdo's attack." He winces again. "She was here, with me, killing Snoke then. She was part of the attack that blew up Starkiller." He gestures to his face. "That's when this happened."

Jon blinks slowly.

"And… uh… It's just, now, and I'm sorry about this, occurring to me, that this might be a problem for you, and… Shit. I just… Didn't know. And… I'm sorry."

Jon just stares at him for a moment, mind whirling, and then he sits down on his sofa, wishing he had had the sense to pour himself a drink before Ren got into this, and says, "It's just occurring to you, now, that people on this side might not be under the impression that they're… what… evil? And deserve everything coming their way?"

Ren winces at that, too, sheepishly sits in the chair next to the sofa, looking very uncomfortable. "Yes."

Jon rubs his lips together slowly. Then he rubs his eyes and temples like he has a headache, because one is forming fast. He nods once, and then looks up at Ren, and say, "How badly did your parents fuck you up, Kylo? Evil? We're all evil? Every single one of us, including you, because… What? We didn't agree on our politics? Because some of us thought that Snoke was doing the right thing? Because some of us didn't think he was doing the right thing, but thought he was better than the alternative? Have you ever talked to anyone who volunteered to be here?"

He nods. "A few. Phasma… Hux…" That nod turns into a shake. "No. Not really, no. I brought my Knights here, and I watched him torture and kill them, and… He was evil, Jon. Whatever else was true, he was evil." Ren's looking him in the eye, too, and there's so much pain and heat pouring out of his gaze as he says that.

Jon doesn't shrug, but it's clear this is something he's never dwelled on. "He may have been. I don't know. I never saw him. But if he was evil, his reign stabilized a lot of the galaxy that was spinning out of control. Your mother ran the Resistance, not the Army of the Republic. She couldn't get enough members of the Senate she built to go along with declaring war on Snoke, let alone building an army to defend against him, and that should have told you everything you ever needed to know about that situation."

"We kidnapped babies."

Jon looks nonplussed. "Sure. Most of the galaxy uses conscript labor. If you don't like that… Well, obviously you didn't. So, you put a stop to it. Hell, the Old Republic bred clones to keep itself in troops. You want to tell me how that's any different that kidnapping babies?"

Ren blinks. Everything he ever heard about the Old Republic painted it like Alderaan, a tragically gone era they were working hard to get back. So, yes, he knew about the Clones, but he never really knew about them.

"Exactly. It's just politics, Kylo. Yeah, not all of it is nice. Yes, I prefer what you're doing to what Snoke was doing, but… Being on a different side in a war doesn't mean you get to decide that everyone on that side is beyond basic human compassion and feelings!"

"He blew up the Hosnian system!"

"Exactly! You know that's wrong because you know being on the other side isn't carte blanche to kill everyone. That's why you don't do shit like that. Because the other side is people. Gods, Kylo… We're fucking people!"

"I…" it sounds lame, "know. Now."

"Shit." Jon rubs his forehead again. "And so was the Resistance, right?"

"Yeah."

Jon sighs through his teeth, and asks again, "She wasn't part of the attack on the Supremacy?"

"No. I've been told Holdo was on the ship by herself when she turned it on the Supremacy."

Jon nods. "You got a bunch of other Resistance buddies lurking about?"

"No. They… uh… just found out about me, and… Aren't exactly fond of me, either. I'm… on speaking terms with Poe Dameron, but… that's about it."

Jon shakes his head. "I don't know who that is."

"He'd be appalled. Uh… Probably the thing you'd most need to know about him is he's the guy who commanded the mutiny against Holdo."

"I'm liking him better by the second." Jon sighs. Then he looks at his bag, and his sketch pad, and his datapad.

"If you don't want to do it… If you want out… You're vested, and I'll set you up for whatever retirement you might like."

Jon rolls his eyes, scoots a little closer to Ren, and gives him a little shove on the shoulder. "You're not getting rid of me that easily."

Ren blinks in surprise. Jon gets up, and Ren follows.

"I'm late. I've got to get going. I'll see you in a few days. When I get back, and this quiets down, at some point we're going to have a chat about how disagreeing about politics does not automatically make you evil."

"Okay. Yes. I'd… like that."

"Good." He doesn't exactly push Ren out of his room, but he does eye the door, and his manner lets him know what's up.

"I'm leaving. Jon," Ren turns, and it's fairly clear that if he's ever done this before it was a very long time ago, because he's awfully skittish as he takes a half step closer, hugs Jon, quickly, and then pulls back, blushing, and says, "Thank you," and then just about runs out of the room.

Jon sighs, spends a moment staring at his fish, rubbing his temples, and says, "Bonnie, Clive, Tom, Al, I think I've got my work cut out for me."

Like any member of the First Order who didn't test in the top twenty percent for hand-eye-foot coordination, reflex speed, and spatial processing, Jon Frakes was never trained as a pilot.

So, he has a ship, and he has a pilot, who is a bit miffed at them leaving late.

But, once they're in transit, there's not much for Jon to do.

That's not true. There's a ton of things for him to do. He's just… not doing them.

Ren's comment about them deserving everything that came their way is deeply disturbing to him. On a lot of levels, and he can't get them out of his head.

So, instead of sketching, or looking through potential diplomats or any of the million other things he could be doing, he opens his datapad and begins a letter.

Kylo,

It still feels really bizarre to do that, refer to him as Kylo, but… he can feel the hug, and the nervous, scared, vulnerable emotions pouring off the man, and… Shit, this is a guy who has no friends, who's been desperately trying to befriend Jon since… probably about their third meeting. That's why he asked about using first names, and… And a lot of who Kylo is is suddenly falling into place for Jon.

This isn't a man trying to be a 'good boss.' This is someone who's probably desperately lonely and isolated, stuck in a job he doesn't know how to do, trying to make a decent human connection with him, and Jon just missed it.

Couldn't see Kylo for Ren.

He takes another breath, and starts to write.

You've asked me to talk about this, and… right now I have a lot of thoughts going through my mind.

You've told me your mother was Leia Organa, and how the idea that my/our side 'deserved' whatever came its way… And… I'll admit, that's a hard pill, but…

Growing up, there were things that never got said because, of course, the war was over, and we were all nice and happy New Republicans, and those Imperials were… well… unfortunate. Because, of course, that's the mask you had to strap onto your face to keep your place. To stay… comfortable... or out of prison… or alive. (Did your mother ever talk about what happened to Imperials who didn't 'convert?' Not the Stormtroopers and the like, but the actual people who supported the Empire? There were quite a lot of them, trillions across the galaxy, and if you weren't like my mother, insanely talented at something, things got bad.)

But it was a mask. At least in my family.

I grew up knowing that the Rebellion had been a bunch of fanatical terrorists who managed to overthrow a democratically elected government.

And yes, Palpatine had gone… as my mother put it… but only in the privacy of our own home, "A touch problematic toward the end, but nothing that required taking down the entire Empire!" or "Well, of course dissolving the senate had been a mistake, but… Well, they kept hiding their plots in there, and using their diplomatic credits to hide their spies. Didn't have the votes to take him out, but that didn't stop them from plotting. Some Republicans they were!"

Or, as my oldest sister put it, "The old bat went crazy and paranoid, and unfortunately, when an Emperor goes crazy, there's only one way to get rid of him. If Vader had done his job the way he was supposed to, this would have never gotten that far."

Anyway, there is a point to this rambling. Namely, this: There's never been a government anywhere that wasn't to the benefit of most of the people under it. Once that ceases to be true, someone takes it out. I suppose that's what happened to the Empire. It stopped benefiting the right people, and they took them out.

That's all any of this has ever been, which group gets the most benefit. The Empire benefited Imperials. The Rebellion benefited Rebels. The Republic benefited Republicans. There's always an in-group and an out-group. Those on the rise and those who are falling.

And there has never, ever been some Force-ordained holy group of perfect people building a utopia that benefits everyone. The Old Republic wasn't one. Your mum didn't build one. You're not going to build one, either. It can't be done.

You do as much as you can for as many as you can, and that's that. If you're lucky, more people benefit from your rule than don't, and if that's true, you get to keep ruling.

Now, I like what you're doing with the Order, making membership voluntary. As long as we continue with this, it more or less guarantees that the people who benefit from us will stick around, and the ones who don't will just leave, go find something that suits them more. Sure, we'll tangle with outsiders, but this should cut down on factions within.

I think we'll be stronger, and last longer, because of that, but in the end, even with that, it still boils down to this, we're a collection of people, doing the best we can, for each other, for The Order, and we'll hope that it's good, and pray that we don't fuck too many bystanders, but… It's just a hope.

One last thought, before I get back to 'work.' I don't know what your parents taught you. Obviously, they believed strongly in what they were doing, but… As soon as you decide an entire political movement, especially one that will literally hold a blaster to your head and force you to join, from the foot soldiers to the leaders to everyone in between is evil you've lost your basic humanity. If the entire Empire deserved what it got, if everyone in Snoke's organization did… Then so did everyone in the Resistance or the Rebellion or… Alderaan… I guess. It's the same thought process, just a different outgroup.

That's the story, right? I remember watching it on the holovids and newsreels in school. The Emperor dissolved the senate and destroyed perfect, peaceful Alderaan, and after that… Well, anything that happened to anyone in an Imperial uniform was warranted, right?

How is that different from the idea that the Queen and Prince Consort of Alderaan were part of the Rebellion, so blow the whole place up?

We're better than that.

Qualeen proved it. You got the people who didn't screw you over out. You only went against the ones who hurt us or the ones who benefited from us getting hurt.

And that's it. That's the best we can do.

Okay, back to 'work.' See you in three days,

-Jon