Chapter 4: Wicked Games

Kylo had heard music blaring and then the sound of laughing coming from the open balcony doors. Stalking back to his uncle's office, he felt his hands clench at his sides yet again. He was not mad about some beautiful girl who had two attentive friends fawning over her, one more than likely her boyfriend and slightly more than attentive. He was not mad she had ran away from him to run to them the moment they had arrived. He was not mad about it. He had no reason to. He was mad at his uncle.

Yes, that was it.

He found his uncle reclined back in his chair, sipping a glass of wine, unaffected. Wasn't his zen uncle supposed to refrain from things such as alcohol? "This! This is who you want to run your business?"

Luke Skywalker grinned, actually smiled at his enraged intrusion. "She brings life back into this old place. Quite like her namesake, don't you agree? A beam of pure sunlight."

So his uncle had noticed then? Could he see the girl's light as easily as Kylo could?

"She's a child," Kylo argued, flippantly. "I'm the only one mature enough to handle this place, including you," he gestured to his uncle, "you ancient relic."

Luke raised an eyebrow at the obvious quip on his age, but didn't retort in anger. "She's innocent," He corrected. "She is no more a child than either you or I."

The sound of feet moving around above them, signaled the start of the three dancing. Kylo could picture the girl, Rey, shifting about on bare feet, the golden color of her painted toes standing out against the dark hard wood grain. He wondered if she still wore her hair up in the company of her friends or if she had forgone her messy bun to let her locks down. How long would it have hung? Past her shoulders? Longer?

"But you already knew that, didn't you, Ben?"

Kylo flared at his uncle's not so subtle poke. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

Luke gave him a knowing smirk. Stupid Skywalker blood. It made you one of two things: a smart ass or a pain in the ass. He didn't have the patience for either.

His anger thrummed around him and Kylo felt himself being drug backwards through time to a night long before the here and now. Another night when he hadn't been patient and he had been shouting. He saw himself as a young boy, with the same dark locks and pale skin, but he had yet to grow into some of his features. Wearing his hair long had been less about a fashion sense or bad boy aesthetic and more about hiding his abnormally large ears. Unfortunately, there was nothing that could be done about his nose or his gangly limbs.

It was one drawback to training at the academy. There were mirrors fully coating the walls. The purpose was for correcting their forms, showing them where a foot was out of the proper stance or how their angle of attack was off. The goal was not to further his increasing insecurities. But being naive and vulnerable, Kylo saw object as a reason to keep his guard up. He was defensive about a lot of things, but his appearance most of all.

One afternoon when he entered the dojo for class, he overheard his peers discussing him. The other dozen or so members of his class were already on the floor stretching, when he caught one of them say his name. Not meaning to eavesdrop, he started to clear his throat. And that's when he gathered what they were doing.

Kylo had been bullied at his former school, prior to coming to live with his uncle. He'd heard the names before: Big Ben, Elephant Ears, Gonzo...the list went on. He hadn't been able to stop his emotions from over powering him then. When he had burst into the studio, startling his peers, he had barely registered their fear at having been caught. Glaring at them all, he had snapped viciously, going on about the flaws in their technique and about the inconsistencies in their own features.

When he had finished, he was hoarse and flushed. He had excused himself from the room, neglecting class that evening. The next time he saw them all, they remained silent, none of them brave enough to offer up an apology or friendly smile. No one had so much as looked at him or in his general direction for months. Luke had been taken aback by his sullen mood in class, but Kylo had pretended it was nothing, not wishing to further relive their harsh critiques.

The world was a cruel place. He had learned the lesson too many times. The more days that had passed after the event in the dojo, the more withdrawn he became. His dedication to his studies and his training were what he clung to. His impressive grades and perfect forms were regarded by his teachers. Their praise, though well-earned, had been the only positive feedback he'd been given in his life. Kylo had strived to be the best.

It had become a mantra.

Attachments to people had only let him down. Eventually even his uncle, the one person he had believed would stand by him, disappointed him. He had always been alone. He didn't know how else to be. Snoke had told him it was a wise decision to ignore the temptation of attachment. He had groomed Kylo, granting him constant praise and gifting him with the opportunity to gain more adoration from fans as he succeeded again and again in the ring. The love of a fan was an approval he could work with. They never expected anything from him. They were just pleased he was a winner. There was no attachment, no disappointment to be had. If a fan got over him, there were dozens more waiting to fill the disgruntled one's shoes.

"When was the last time you went out with someone? Female? Male? Whatever," Luke asked, as if he knew what was in Kylo's mind.

He was not having this conversation. Not with Luke or anyone. His personal life was just that.

Personal.

So what if he was single? So what if he hadn't had a date in over three years? So what if he was a thirty-something virgin? What did any of it matter? He was a champion. People all over the world wanted him or wanted to be him. He had plenty of options. But he also had standards, exceptionally high standards. He wasn't interested in a quick tussle in the sheets if all it left him with was further regret and embarrassment.

When the time came for him to be done fighting and to retire, he'd worry about what came next then. Whether that meant being with someone or not, that would have to be seen. Until that time, his focus was on the ring and winning his next title. He was still young enough that if he played his cards right, he would have several more years in the MMA arena. Once the suspension was over, he could go back to basking in his fame and glory. He could forget about this ridiculous conversation and that ridiculous girl.

He could forget, later, apparently because his uncle was still pushing the topic. "You could take Rey around town tomorrow and introduce her to Maz and-."

Also out of the question. The last time he had seen Maz had had a lasting effect. He wouldn't be putting himself in her line of vision any time soon. The only reason he had gone to her cafe in the first place was because he knew she wouldn't be there. He would have forgone caffeine all together, if she had been present.

"No."

Kylo had to suffer through working with the inexperienced girl his uncle had hired. He was not about to play nice with her. Luke had said he only needed to be civil. There was nowhere in his court arrangement where it stated he had to be buddy buddy with his coworker.

Besides, taking her around town would inspire talk, not to mention start the perpetual gossip hotline. Maz was a direct line back to his parents. And that was a line he had disconnected years ago. He would not be revisiting it any time soon.

Phasma would take care of things. She always did. It was why Kylo kept her around. She didn't do small talk and she was thorough. The perfect assistant. He only wished Hux was more like her.

His manager had an uncanny way of putting his nose in Kylo's business — where it wasn't wanted. Hux was talented in his own way. He handled situations with a calculated manner Kylo struggled to achieve. He had been instrumental in aiding Kylo after punching out Nines. The papers had wanted to the know the reason. Kylo didn't care. He wasn't about to let them, or anyone else, know. He hadn't even shared it with his staff. Hux had pestered him for it, claiming he needed the information to protect Ren, but Kylo ignored his efforts. Hux was a necessary evil.

Just like these community service hours.

Kylo considered if the judge, who had sentenced him, knew he would have preferred jail. Usually altercations of a certain level required serving time, or at least a period of house arrest. But no, he had been given, what the papers called, a free pass by serving at the academy.

It was anything but free.

He hadn't even been back for a full twenty-four hours and already he was unraveling. He felt his control slipping with each second he remained standing in his uncles office listening to the noise of happy youth upstairs. When he had lived there, it had been a silent escape. Only he and his uncle had ever been inside. Now, she had appeared. She has changed the essence of his home simply by being there...simply by being her.

Quite like her namesake, his uncle had said.

Kylo hated the sunshine.

She was already there the next morning, flitting around, bright and bubbly as usual. He groaned inwardly, contemplating if it was her regular mood or if it was a ploy to continuously annoy him. If the latter, it was working.

"Morning!" She flashed him one of her sunbeam smiles. She was back to cleaning, wiping down the equipment, organizing his uncle's notebooks, and generally tidying up.

He barely managed a nod to acknowledge her before he was slinking back to the office. After escaping his uncle's intrusion into his love life, Kylo had driven back to the city and the quiet comfort of his apartment. He hadn't gone out in days and all that met him was an empty fridge as a reminder. As a consolation prize, he did have a bottle of whiskey.

And it had proved to be sorely needed.

His landline had been blinking on the kitchen wall. Kylo groaned and rolled his eyes. Why he had bothered to keep such an antiquated piece of technology was beyond him, but since he was rarely in his apartment, the fact the phone existed bothered him infrequently. Now, however, the little red light was blinking angrily, as it taunting him.

Might as well get this over with, he thought, slamming one larger finger down on the 'play' button. There were only a handful of people who even knew his home number and only one who would use it.

"First missed message recorded, today, at 10:43am."

The clipped, artificial voice was replaced by a weathered, but familiar tone. Kylo grimaced as the voice of his mother echoed through the empty penthouse. "Ben, this is your mother, you know, the woman who spent twenty-two hours in labor with you?" He was glad it was a rhetorical question. Leia Organa had never been one to hide her true feelings. If blunt honesty had been a medium, she would have been the greatest artist of her time.

"I heard you were back in town. I wanted to see if we could meet up for dinner. And before you object by having that Amazonian woman call me to tell me your schedule is too full, recall I was the one who made sure your sentencing was reduced. You owe me." Kylo added guilt-tripping to his mother's list of under appreciated skills. He knew the judge had let him off too easy. Hux must have requested assistance with more than the initial harassment suit from Nines. Damn, ginger.

"I'll be in Coreilla for the holidays this year. The foundation had a few charity events coming up. It would be lovely if you could attend. I'm sure auctioning off an evening with the one and only Kylo Ren would bring in a large crowd of supporters." Ah, there it was, the self-serving portion of his call. He was wondering when she'd get around to it.

"We were planning on auctioning off eligible ladies from the city, but I am sure the committee would make an exception for you. And before you refuse, think of how it would be for your PR. Even that bastard Snoke would agree with me on this one."

Kylo scoffed, running a hand through his dark mane at her last comment. His mother had made no attempt to hide her disdain towards Anthony Snoke. In fact, her contempt for him had grown incrementally over the years. If there was one thing Leia hated, I was losing. She was a rather sore loser. Perhaps it was a family trait. Kylo hadn't lost a fight since before he became a professional, so the concept was a bit fuzzy for him.

"Hope you're taking care of yourself. Tell your uncle to call me. Love you." Then he heard the tell-tale click of her disconnecting the line.

He let out a breath he hadn't been aware he had been holding. His body was taut with tension. He thought about going into his personal gym to get a few hits in on his base opponent bag, then banished the idea. The whiskey sounded more alluring this late in the evening.

The alcohol had been a welcomed treat after the long day. He had poured himself a glass, before settling down on his couch. Outside the lights had decorated the night skyline. They shined so brightly, they made it appear to be day time instead of nearly midnight. It had reminded him of how Rey blocked his own dark demeanor. He had closed his blinds.

When his alarm had gone off earlier, he had thrown his phone across the room. Over an hour later he opened one lazy eye to find the bottle of whiskey nearly empty. Grumbling, he had pulled himself up off the sofa and made his way to the shower.

It had been years since he had had a drink. His training was rigorous. Alcohol was a hindrance and not tolerated by Snoke. Being on a forced sabbatical, however, meant less training and more time alone with his thoughts. It was not a situation Kylo cared to be in. So he had drank. Drank until his thoughts fell silent, along with the rest of him.

So what if his head was pounding? So what if he was late to Ahch-To? So what if he hadn't bothered to check his phone since he left the night before?

Phasma.

The files on the girl.

Kylo grabbed at his pocket as if it would burst into flames. He yanked his phone free, unlocking it to find a couple of missed calls from Luke, a text from Hux, and several emails. He scrolled through until he saw Phasma' name on one with an attachment.

He ducked into his uncle's vacant office to review the information. He did not want to be disturbed.

Sir,

Attached, as requested.

- G. Phasma

Direct and to the point. It was typical of his assistant. He was appreciative of her concise nature. She didn't mince words. She went right for the jugular.

Some of the other fighters at First Order didn't want a female assistant, claiming they were just a skirt to keep up the diversity ratio at the firm. Kylo would have agreed had it not been for Phasma. She was tough as nails. And even tougher on those who crossed her.

Phasma had been a fighter for a time. An injury had caused her to retire early. It hadn't caused her to lose her fire. Her spirit was evident. No one talked down to her. If there was a newcomer who didn't understand her role, Kylo was the first to educate them. He knew she could do it herself, but he wanted her to remain content so she'd stay with him. After the last few years, he wasn't sure how he'd manage without her.

Kylo downloaded the attached combined PDF. There were several reports, transcripts from the girl's high school and college, and foster paperwork. She had been in the system.

He wasn't sure what he had expected. He had been the one to insult her Jakku background, but he hadn't anticipated her being there without a choice. For whatever reason, he read through the fostering section first. She was an orphan, abandoned too early in life. He tried not to dwell on that fact.

The man she had been left with was single, a junker. It didn't seem an appropriate choice. Kylo made a mental note to have Phasma look him up. As he did, he noticed there was a picture of Rey from when she had been brought in by the agency.

She was tiny, smaller and more delicate than she was now. There was still light in her, even as she sat in a plastic chair, hugging her knees to her chest, eyeing the photographer warily. Her clothes were dirty and baggy, hanging off her thin limbs. It was clear she hadn't been taken care of. He found his mouth go dry and it became hard to swallow.

What kind of parents left a poor kid in a place like Jakku? How could they go about their lives with her so under fed? She looked as if she had been tossed aside, discarded as if she was nothing more than...

Rubbish.

Garbage.

Trash.

Exactly what he had called her barely less than a day ago. Kylo practically snarled at his phone, as if it was at fault for his clashing emotions on the girl.

Frustrated, he exited out of the files. He had asked for this. He had wanted to know about her so he could find out what made her tick. She was already under his skin. He couldn't permit that. He needed to scare her off, make her leave the studio so Luke had no other choice but to will it to him. It was patrimony.

"Rough night?" Luke entered, a bottle of a disgustingly blue liquid held in one hand.

"What is that?"

"Blue milk," he replied, as if it was explanation enough. Kylo repressed a shudder, as his mind gave him images of what could make a concoction such a hideous color. "It does the body good."

If Luke's withered appearance was a valid indication of his health, Kylo had to disagree. His uncle was worn, aging badly. The scar he had received in his youth, from a motorcycle collision, was more evident now. It was jagged in its impression against the other creases in his face.

Had the blemish spoiled his uncle's chances at love? Disfigurement was common among professional fighters. Fake teeth, plastic surgery, and sometimes prosthetics were applied to help them appear complete. There wasn't much to be done for their inner workings. Some breaks could never be repaired.

"And for the record, you were the one who arrived late this morning. Not Rey." Luke wore a rather smug expression for someone who was perceived as a zen master. Kylo thought about asking his uncle if it was healthy for his chi to be taking such gratification from his failings. His uncle didn't seem to be above manipulation of the current situation to make him feel less worthy of inheriting the studio. However, he was right. Rey had been on time, while Kylo had been over an hour late.

Damn him.

Kylo's arm twitched with the need to break something, preferably something that would make a mess. The photo of his uncle and winning his final title would do. The glass would shattered, satisfying his need for breaking something in place of his uncle's face.

"Take it out on the bags," his uncle waved him off, sensing the storm unfolding before him. "That is what they are there for, after all."

Kylo stomped out of the room. Gone was his concern for the girl. She had bested him...again. And to make it worse, she seemed completely unaware of it. She was still in the studio, leaning over the corner counter where the sound equipment was. She was humming, as she scanned through one of his uncle's lesson plans.

He ignored her, rolling out one of the freestanding bags. If Luke wanted him to take out his anger on this piece of equipment, he would. It wasn't his fault if he broke the damn thing. The bag was probably as old as him.

"You should remove your shoes," Rey reminded him, though not unkindly. "It's not good for the mats."

He shucked his shoes off, throwing them out the studio door into the waiting room. They thumped loudly against the linoleum, crashing against the floor, before landing together under neath one of the chairs. She gave a little jump at his aggressive response. "Better?" He growled.

"Thank you."

Thank you? He stared at her through the reflection in the mirror. She had already gone back to perusing the notebook, unaware of his observation. Why did she thank him?

Most people he was rude to accepted it. A rare few gave it back to him. No one ever was kind. Not his parents. Not his uncle. Certainly not Snoke or Hux. Phasma was the closest, though kind was a bit of a stretch. Obedient was a more accurate term.

There was no reason for anyone to treat him kindly. He was condescending by default. After years of feeling unwanted and weird, he had developed a tough skin. Ridicule had haunted him in his earlier years, but once he was faced with the limelight surrounding his matches, he had learned how to cope with the constant streams of jealousy and ridicule associated with his success. He was in his prime, a top contender, a force to be reckoned with. He no longer had to fear being an outcast. He was famous.

But still alone.

Kylo flexed his hands at the thought. Alone. It was becoming a constant in his life. No matter how he excelled in the ring or how many championship titles he won, he ultimately returned to an empty apartment, a penthouse which looked as unlived in as it felt. He didn't even have a pet to greet him when he walked through the door. As if a pet would love him. No one loved a monster.

He struck the bag, slowly at first, finding his rhythm. It had been some time since he had trained with an inanimate object. At the First Order gym, he trained with other individuals, sometimes more than one at a time. Punching a bag was less satisfying, but also less hazardous to his career. If he knocked out another person, outside of the ring, the federation was sure to kick him out.

His thoughts quieted as he increased he pace and ferocity of his hits. Jab, cross, jab, jab. Uppercut. Right hook, another jab, another cross. Another. Another. Again and again. He lost count, found his pace, and chased the clarity he brought him.

It could have been mere minutes or it could have been hours. Time ceased to exist. All he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears and the staccato best of his fists hitting the target. Perspiration leaked from his pores, dropping down his body. Most soaked into his clothes, leaving the rest to splatter into the mat.

He gave himself over to his emotions — anger, embarrassment, more anger, loneliness, desperation — it all meshed together into a mixture of inner turmoil and chaos. He didn't focus on any one particular thought or feeling that passed through his mind. It wasn't until he saw a shadow shift behind him he even remembered her presence. Her hand was outstretched, reaching towards him.

"Ben?"

Pure instinct took over, at first from the advance of another person and secondly out of hatred for his birth name. He ripped a left hook through the air. As soon as he let the punch loose, he realized his mistake. The papers would have a field day. He was about to hit a defenseless woman.

Only his first never made contact.

She had pivoted just out of his range, her face unreadable. She was quick. He'd give her that much. Breathing hard, he made a reckless decision.

He fired off another shot, this time aiming a jab at her cheek. She took half a step back, wrapping her tiny hands around his much larger one, before looping herself underneath his arm and behind his back, keeping his own arm locked behind him. She applied enough pressure to the hold for it to become slightly uncomfortable but not break.

Defenseless?

Had he really thought of her as such? He almost laughed. Almost. He easily kicked back, sweeping her ankle, so she fell backwards. But she didn't remain still. She rolled over backwards, keeping the distance between them until she had regained her footing. Her eyes were narrowed now, maddening in how darkly green they had become. He couldn't tell if she was actually cross with him or simply concentrating, but he'd be damned if he wasn't about to push her further to find out.

Kylo advanced again, crowding her small form back towards the far wall. He watched her eyes, impressed how she remained focused on him, despite her attempts to search for an exit. His uncle had trained her in the importance of that, at least. As he rose his arms to cage her in against the wall, she sent a power front snap kick into his shin, hitting directly under his knee cap, forcing him to fall toward one side, thereby giving her the perfect route to escape.

Scrappy little thing.

He faltered only for a split second, but it served to be enough to permit her to gain distance again. Her hands were up now, protecting her face. Kylo had never hit a woman before and found himself feeling disgusted at the idea he had very nearly hit her. Had he struck her lovely face, he wouldn't have been able to look himself in the mirror.

His father had had a temper, as did his mother, but for all their bickering, his father had never laid a hand to his wife. He had told Kylo once there was no greater sin than harming an innocent creature. Kylo wasn't sure if he'd consider his mother innocent, but he had to agree the idea of striking a woman felt terribly wrong. Only a coward would resort to such a thing.

So what are you doing?

Teaching her, he answered himself.

If teaching was playing a game of cat and mouse with him as the cat stalking a rather attractive mouse.

Rey was regarding him with an ambiguous glare. Her breathing had become more labored and there was a red flush working its way up her collarbone, past her neck, and into her face. She looked like warrior, not the malnourished, submissive rag doll he had seen in her foster picture. No, this woman was something else.

His lips pulled into a smirk and he rushed at her, taking them both by surprise. He latched onto her wrists, wrapping his massive hands around her effortlessly. Her eyes widened in shock, but her defiance was still there. The green had all but taken over her irises, however, as he yanked her close, a spark of gold erupted from the center. He delighted in how her blush deepened, against her fiery will.

Oh, little one, has no one ever told you not to play with fire? You could get burned.

As if she could hear his mocking thoughts, she surged all her energy into kneeing him in the hip, attempting to knock him off balance once again. While the force of her attack did startled him enough for her to break her right wrist free, he didn't release her entirely. She tried to flee, but his hold on her other arm, caused her to snap back towards him, like a rubber band. He expected to catch her and ask her to yield. He didn't expect her to use the momentum of the backwards motion to land her own hook.

She caught him with knuckles and a straight wrist, driving the full power of her punch into his check.

"Fuck!"

Kylo released her instantly, stumbling back a step to grab his face. He could feel the tear of his flesh. When he pulled his hand back, he saw the red smear of freshly drawn blood. He raised his eyes to find Rey staring at him. She didn't look like Rey anymore. She looked wild, almost feral. Stars, he had been wrong about her. She wasn't a bubbly, light-hearted Millennial. She had a dark side.

He felt rather smug about it, though he had no idea why. He should have been mad she had landed a hit. Hell, she had drawn blood. And he had been worried about hurting her. Apparently such a level of restraint only went one way. She obviously felt no need to prevent herself from injuring him.

Slowly, he made a move towards her. Her hands were up in an instant, her focus purely on him. It stirred something inside him, something equally dark and exhilarating.

"Do that again," he commanded her.

His words were unexpected. She shifted, unsure about his intentions. "W-what?"

He repeated his words slowly, so there was no way for her to misunderstand. "Do. That. Again."

She swallowed, clearly weighing her options. After a long moment of pause, she nodded. He wiped the back of his hand across his bruising cheek, before brushing off the residue on his pants. If the blood stained them, no one would notice. It was one of the perks of an all black wardrobe, besides, he had dozens more at home.

Rey was the one to advance this time, keeping her stance defensive. Her eyes betrayed her, blazing with eager gusto. She swung a high kick at him, causing him to retreat back a half step, before he was ducking to avoid another kick. He hadn't seen her stretch, so either she was rather flexible or she had warmed up while he was lost in his own head space. He tried not to think too much about the former, lest he forget himself while in battle.

When she threw her next kick, he was prepared. He caught her by her calf, with the intention of tossing her down. She didn't hesitate, instead using her other foot to kick herself up off the ground and land her heel into his core, knocking both of them apart. He landed back on his rear, while she skimmed the floor on her back. He didn't envy her the mat burn she'd feel tomorrow.

From her sprawled position on the floor across from him, he could see the deep rise and fall of her chest. She was nearly as breathless as he was, yet another detail he had to make himself ignore. They both rose to their feet, cautiously, never taking their eyes off one another. Then, as if they shared the same thought, they lunged for each other.

Kylo tried to grab a hold of her wrists again. Sensing his decision, Rey gripped back, fighting to direct his energy as he worked to pull her in his direction. Her skin was smooth and he wondered if she was hurt by the numerous calluses on his own hands, evidence of his years of dedicated training. If it bothered her, she didn't mention, too focused on his hold. She attempted to shuffle them to the side, sliding her grip further down his hands to where she could bend his fingers for compliance.

Clever girl.

He whipped them around quickly, stunning her for a second to buy him time. What did he do now? If he was fighting in the ring a head butt would knock out his competitor, but he did not want to knock the girl out. And he certainly didn't want to mark her. That left one other option. He positioned himself to finish their brawl. He would have the final word...or in this case, shot.

It was in that moment, his uncle appeared in the doorway.

"Stop!"

They broke away instantly, both still breathing heavily from their bout. Kylo had his eyes trained on hers. The green was there again, more so than the gold. He felt the stirrings of an addiction starting, imagining the many ways he could coax such a physical response out of her. He felt pleased he was able to control at least one aspect of her, no matter how minimal it was.

Her lips were parted slightly, as she tried to catch her breath. Pearly white teeth were behind them. He briefly wondered how she had managed to achieve such hygiene living the rough way she had. As quickly as the thought surfaced, he drove it out of his mind. She was not his to worry about.

"Rey, could you run into town for me?" Luke asked, causing her to turn away from Kylo. "I forgot to pick up a new USB cord for the sound system. Alliance should have them in stock."

"Yes, Master Luke," she nodded, dutifully, leaving the floor.

Kylo waited until she had disappeared into the office. He could anticipate the lecture that was to follow in her absence. Something about how he was a bad influence and would corrupt her. Perhaps his uncle had gotten some new material to work with but if past history was any indicator, he would rehash how the Skywalkers always made mistakes and how their lives fell to pieces because of their misguided notions.

"I don't want you training her," his uncle commented. "Your style is far too dark."

"She didn't seem to mind," he replied, cockily with a sneer.

In a rare show of anger, his uncle crossed the room to grab the collar of his shirt. "I will call the court official. Don't test me."

Oh, the mighty Luke Skywalker. The world saw the underdog. Kylo saw the real deal. As much as his uncle acted as the face of reason, a calm presence, he had his own dark past, his own demons.

Kylo returned his uncle's uncharacteristic move with a dark chuckle. "I'll stay away from the girl-."

"Thank y-."

"-if she stays away from me."

"Ben." His tone was a warning.

"Wasn't it you who said she was no child?" Luke remained silent. His face was filled with irritation. "If that is so, then she can make her own decisions where her training is concerned."

"I will not have you corrupting her."

"Do you think she's easily corruptible?"

"That is not-."

"Perhaps you should have taken care when selecting your padawan," Kylo stated, hoping it would convince his uncle he was the rightful successor.

Luke stood still for a long moment. When he did speak, there was a smile teasing at the corners of his mouth.

"Fine, Ben. Do as you please."

Kylo raised an eyebrow. Was this some kind of old world trick? Reverse psychology? His uncle suddenly was calm. There were no hints of his earlier displeasure. In fact, he seemed to be on the edge of amusement.

Old fool.

Perhaps he had been going about this the wrong way. He had been trying to force Rey out when he should have been focused on changing his uncle's mind about her. If his uncle lost faith in her, the way he had about Kylo, she wouldn't be an option. Kylo could fight for the academy since it was a family owned business and he was Luke's only family. Rey would have no claim on it.

His uncle's final warning hung in the air long after he had left Kylo alone in the studio.

"This is not going to go the way you think."

A/N: So how was that for growing the tension — sexual and otherwise — between our duo? After my Beta (the amazing myheadsinthegalaxy) read the first pass of this chapter, I rewrote Kylo's flashback. I like it better this time around, but it did take me some time to flow naturally back into the chapter.

Follow the soundtrack on Spotify: Hit Me With Your Best Shot (Reylo)
Go to War by Nothing More is the song I imagined playing for Kylo and Rey's match.