Chapter 6: Savages

Kylo had left the studio not long after his uncle's cryptic warning. He had had no patience for the old man or his half-hearted attempts to keep him from his chosen protege — a title which should have been reserved for his blood relative. But his uncle had made his choice, furthering Kylo's belief that attachments only caused disappointment. So he had gotten into his car and had drove off without so much as a goodbye.

The remainder of the week passed uneventfully. It was partially due to Luke constantly keeping guard over the girl and partially because she disappeared each night. Kylo began to notice her rushing out the door around six or six-thirty, followed by the rumbling sound of her motorcycle turning over. He was curious where she ran off to each evening, but he hadn't been alone with her since they had fought.

He had been mulling over the outcome of their battle since it had happened. Her moves, while sloppy and chaotic were a far cry from perfect, but she had strength, more than he would have suspected for someone of her size. She was like a bobcat, small and tranquil, until a line was crossed. Then she let her claws loose. Upon further consideration, a bobcat was a fitting metaphor for her. She was scrappy, with brown hair, and that delectable spotting of tan freckles across her face. Also, she always wore her hair up in three sloppy buns, a unique style he hadn't seen before. It was another curiosity, another question about her that went unanswered as the days passed.

Without answers, he found himself constantly going through her files. The answers he sought were not enough to satisfy his growing need to know everything about her, but it pacified him enough to not break anything at the academy, lest he prove his uncle's point and he scare the girl away before he even had the chance to offer to teach her. His apartment didn't earn the same fate. In the first forty-eight hours alone, he destroyed a lamp, demolished his landline, and flipped over his glass coffee table. The shattered remnants of all remained untouched, silently mocks him each night he returned. It usually resulted in him wrecking additional objects.

As he once again returned to his home, he ignored the doorman, as he strolled into the complex. The lobby was empty at this time of day, the majority of the tenants still at their top-floor office suites, out to a fancy dinner, or traveling the globe to secure the next big contract. It was a vicious cycle, the search for greatness, the chase for success. The money was the reason why they did it, or so they said, but Kylo was more honest with himself. The money had its perks, of course, but he wanted the power. He wanted invincibility. While he spent his working hours at the gym training or in the ring delivering physical blows, his neighbors were down in the Financial district crunching numbers and battling a debt crisis that was crippling the nation.

Everyone wants power, Kylo mused to himself. They just find it in different ways.

It was a job sure to bore him to tears. He couldn't fathom sitting at a desk in front of a computer screen all day. He imagined it would result in numerous destroyed property complaints and the occasional physical assault charge. However, he was already serving for the latter, so perhaps when he retired from fighting he would join the other residents in their office space.

Coreilla was never where he planned on living long-term, though to be honest, he had never made plans to live anywhere long. The only reason he kept a permanent residence was more about a tax write off and to have a memorable address to send stuff. It had nothing to do with having a real home. That fantasy had been a child's dream, a notion he had outgrown.

Kylo traveled in the elevator to his pad, scrolling through notifications on his phone as he ascended. There were the typical daily announcements about the First Order, several requests for him to make an appearance by the PR team (they included a list of events and dates), and a reminder from HR about submitting his expense report on time. He ignored them all, continuing to scroll through to the end, when his eyes landed on Phasma's email.

He found himself opening it again, for what seemed to be the hundredth time. He bypassed the photo, not wishing to see the frightened, fragile child sitting alone again. It was an image he couldn't get out of his head, so drastically different than the hurricane of a fighter Rey had been in the dojo that day. What had transformed her from the shattered soul in the photo to the confident, happy young woman she was now? How was she not as jaded as him?

The elevator chimed, the double doors sliding away to reveal his floor. Kylo entered his apartment, half-watching where he was going, half-reading the other files in the collection Phasma had sent him. The girl had made top marks throughout her entire academic career. In high school, she had graduated at the top of her class, earning praise from all her teachers and a scholarship to Cal Poly. She had been on the Dean's list every term there and had kept up with all her scholarship requirements while working part-time at her foster father's shop. He expected her to be enrolled in clubs or some form of extracurricular activities, thinking she would have had more than a couple of gym credits worth of experience in martial arts. There was nothing, just a job at a dingy old shop.

Engineering was not an effortless degree. He had to wonder why she chose it, especially when she showed such promise as a fighter. Cal Poly was nationally ranked and the fifth best school in the country for engineering, so he was sure their program was rigorous. Still, with her potential, he was sure Rey would have benefited from some outlet, some other activity to keep her mind occupied beyond her degree's coursework. Kylo had hoped for at least a yellow belt in karate or some foundational training he could work with. It was no matter. With some private training and the right resources, she could join the league. She could be his equal within the female ranks.

The thought of her in all black and red, the color scheme of the First Order uniforms, had him picturing other things like how she would look in the team's gym, stretching alongside him, or working out with the targets, as he stood by, correcting her turn out. Kylo wondered if Mitaka would be able to do a work up on her when she first came in. The First Order doctor was on call at all times. It was mandatory for all new fighters to have a work up, but Dolph was awkward, and Kylo was concerned about him making Rey uneasy. He'd need to be present for that, against any protests from either the doctor or the girl.

He wouldn't let anyone else near her while training, not wishing her to be tainted by their lack of discipline or bad habits. At least that was the reason he gave himself. It had nothing to do with the fact he wanted her alone, all to himself. No, she would need to be carefully groomed into his counterpart. And if that meant more one on one time with her, away from his uncle, then so be it.

He was practically grinning to himself at the idea, when his phone began going off in his palm. Armitage Hux's name appeared in the screen. Kylo contemplated sending it to voicemail to continue down his train of thought on the girl, but Hux was persistent and he had already ignored him for the majority of the week.

"Yes," he snapped, irritably.

"You should make an appearance tonight. It would be good for your image," Hux replied, disregarding Kylo's annoyed tone.

"Not my problem."

"Your a public figure. Of course it's your problem."

"That's what I pay my manager for," Kylo insisted, with a snarl.

"I'll meet you out," Hux continued to ignore him. "I could use a wingman."

"What?" Briefly, Kylo wondered if his manager was drunk. Hux was not his friend. He was his coworker. Kylo didn't have friends.

"Phasma said there is a new club in downtown, the Supremacy. I want to go check it out."

"So go check it out," he grumbled. "I'm staying in."

"What else is new?" Hux groused. "You are going to end up alone, Ren."

"I like being alone."

"No you don't," Hux protested. "You just like to act like you do. We are going out. I'm getting us a car. Pick you up at eleven."

Before Kylo could reject the offer, the call ended.

Fucking Hux.

Damn ginger thought he could order him around! Him! He was Kylo Ren, the enforcer of the First Order, their main cash cow. If he wanted to spend his evenings downing whisky in his apartment and contemplating how to seduce an unsuspecting girl to their club, he would. Hux was not the boss of him. Hux could kiss his ass. The prick. Who did he think he was?

Kylo took his frustration out on his wall. Prior to him moving in, Phasma had hired an interior decorator, who he had instructed to work in a monochromatic color scale, keeping with white, black, and a few red accents. It was lucky the First Order colors were also those he favored. It made furnishing his apartment simple. The walls had been covered with abstract art, some paintings and a few photographs. The one he targeted now, was his least favorite. It was a smearing of ebony and pearl acrylic paint, creating shades of gray. He despised it.

Ripping it off the wall, he paid no attention to the gaping holes it left behind. He threw the large canvas on the floor, stomping on it before he knelt to pick it up and began tearing at it haphazardly. In seconds, the painting no longer resembled a piece of art. It had been obliterated, resulting in fragments of paper and splintered wood on his already cluttered floor.

He found his phone, having previously discarded it onto the couch. Dialing his assistant, he was pleased to hear her voice instantly on the opposite end.

"Sir?"

"I need you to call the cleaners. It seems I have a mess in my apartment," he informed her, no hesitation or remorse in his tone.

"Right away, Sir."

"Thank you, Phasma."

He realized his assistant probably deserved some time off, time away from him and his demands. Gwen Phasma had served him well and rarely took her vacation. In fact, Kylo had never even seen the woman sick. She was a trooper, never complaining, never irritating him the way Hux did. No, Phasma was loyal to a fault and kept up with all his requests, no matter how peculiar. He truly did appreciate all her efforts. It was difficult to secure a subordinate as capable as her.

"Of course. Will there be anything else?"

Kylo surveyed the disorder of his apartment, seeing the clear parallel to the chaos swirling around in his brain. He needed to get to Rey, needed to cement his hold on her and get her to join them. For all his studying of her files, he was no closer to understanding what to make of the girl. He needed more information.

"Yes, please find me background on Unkar Plutt, the girl's foster father and any known associates."

"Certainly."

"And tell Hux I will not be joining him this evening."

"Sir?"

"I have work to do."

"Understood."

"And Phasma?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Schedule some time off for yourself. Whenever you deem necessary," he instructed. "Tell Sol Rivas to report to me during your time off."

That should shut Hux up. If Phasma was off, he'd force his general manager's assistant to fill in for him. Sol was not Kylo's first pick, being older and not as efficient as the platinum blonde haired woman, but it would annoy Hux, so he was the perfect candidate.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"That is all."

He clicked off his phone, stepping away from the remnants of the painting to stare it at the city below. The wide windows of his apartment granted him an unobstructed view of the skyline. He watched as the sunset, only a few rays still peeking past the tallest buildings. Soon night would fall, his favorite time of day, when the shadows came out to play.

Kylo preferred to work in the dark.

When classes began on Monday, Kylo watched Rey's interactions with both the padawans and their parents. She was naturally good with people, easily making them all comfortable and welcomed, with her bright eyes and signature smile. It was like watching her from the first morning at Maz's all over again. She could make friends with anyone.

The children appeared to enjoy her, probably starved for some energetic teacher instead of the dull drone of Luke "the Zen Master" Skywalker. She went through basic forms with them, making each transition graceful and fluid. He could see the numerous hours Luke had spent with her over the last few days had given her a good base. It wasn't how he had wanted it to go, preferring to teach her himself, but it would do. He could correct any differences in methods once he got her alone.

Luke stood off to the side for all of Rey's first classes, silently watching and only interrupting if she stumbled over the pronunciation of a term or forgot a step in their form, which was not often. She had absorbed a great deal of knowledge in her brief time at the academy. It was truly impressive. Kylo was pleased. If she could take instruction so well, it meant he'd be able to fast track her. His visions of her joining him at the First Order seemed less like daydreams and more like real goals to work towards.

As the afternoon came to a close, Rey bowed before her students, and had them recite the academy's pledge.

"There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony."

The children repeated each line back to her, completely focused on her, as she scanned the line of them, to ensure they were all speaking the words out loud.

She bowed again, dismissing them. Kylo started for the door, when the stampede of tiny karate users came running into the waiting room. He side-stepped, narrowly escaping an impact. Children, he shuddered. They were almost worse than full grown adults, always asking questions. It was meddlesome. Kylo couldn't fathom why anyone would want a child.

As if the universe meant to make a mockery of him, one of the padawans came to stand in front of him.

"You're really tall," the boy commented.

"How observant," Kylo sneered, glancing into the studio to see Luke conversing with Rey. Would his foolish uncle ever let her have the peace his code spoke of? He hadn't left her side once in Kylo's presence.

"Are you another new teacher?" The boy asked, still staring up at Kylo.

He glared down at the youngling, wondering why this child wasn't intimidated and running to his mother. Instead, he stood before him, inspecting Kylo as if he was the most interesting specimen in a collection. The professional fighter didn't like it. He felt as though the longer he was under the child's gaze, the more he was being judged.

"Yes," he hissed, hoping his lips flared back enough to reveal his teeth. That ought to do it.

"Cool," the boy grinned, before continuing. "Are you going to our class?"

"Never," he grumbled. "I don't teach infants."

"I'm six," the child insisted, though not unkindly. In fact, he seemed immune to Kylo's aggravation.

"How nice for you."

"Temiri," his uncle appeared in the studio doorway. "Where is your mother?"

"She has to work tonight," the boy informed Luke.

"I see," his uncle's nodded. "Do you want me to as Mrs. Lanai to take you home?"

"Ok," he agreed, while Kylo attempted to sneak into the studio to corner Rey. Then he felt a hand tug on his pants. "Bye Mr. Teacher, sir."

Kylo glared at the boy, Temiri, and then at his uncle who was chuckling. Luke guided the child away and Kylo shook his head, moving to the doorway.

Rey was leaned over the corner counter, scribbling at the speed of light in a new notebook. He stepped down onto the mat, running through his offer once more in his head. He needed her to say yes. He needed her to let him teach her. He wasn't sure how else he'd get through the next six months of his suspension without training with a proper opponent.

As he opened his mouth to begin, another wave of students cane rushing onto the floor. He whipped around, spotting his uncle standing just outside the door, arms crossed over his chest, a smug look on his face.

What the hell?

How was this zen? For all the all of no emotion or chaos or passion, Luke Skywalker was a spiteful ass. Kylo gritted his teeth, bunching his hands into fists. With no opportunity to try speaking with Rey for at least an hour, he went to the back, smaller studio to practice his own forms.

There were no bags in the studio to hit and while the idea of pounding his fist into the mirrored wall across from him was enticing, he was not interested in scaring Rey. While she could hold her own, she was not a stranger to violence and it had him more perplexed about her decision to study engineering and work here. It seemed the more he learned about her, the less he really knew. Per his request, Phasma had obtained information on her foster father, if one could even call the man that.

Unkar Plutt was lower than low, not even worthy of being called Jakku trash, as Kylo had previously seen fit to refer to Rey as. She was his only foster child, which wasn't surprising considering he shouldn't have had any. He had several motions filed against him, complaints from neighbors, speeding tickets, and numerous other allegations. All of which had been withdrawn about a month before Rey was left in his care. He was a regular hodgepodge of crime, petty and lowly crime, but still offensive.

Kylo didn't understand how the state could have awarded custody of the girl to a man like Plutt. Even more unsettling was the countless hospital visits. Rey had been in and out of the ER every few months or so. Broken wrist, broken leg, dislocated shoulder...the lost went on. He had his fair share of injuries from training, the worst being some broken ribs when Snoke had had him go up against the six best ranked members at the First Order. Still, it pales in comparison to the scores of damage the girl had taken. Each time the reason for the break or wound was something along the lines of, "You know how kids are" or "She's clumsy and fell down the steps."

Kylo didn't buy it. He was appalled the hospital staff had. Hadn't anyone understood what was going on? How had no one reported Plutt? But none of the medical files, which Phasma had probably obtained in a less than legal fashion, were as atrocious as the photo she had managed to uncover. He wasn't sure where she had found it and he hadn't thought to ask.

It was Rey, a few years older than her foster shot, covered in grease and thinner than any child should be. Her collarbone was poking out of a shirt that was far too large for her and her eyes were nearly devoid of her spark. She wasn't looking directly at the camera. She was working in a junkyard, trying to lift some hunk of metal out of the belly of a rusted car. He could see her ribs. Seeing her so malnourished and dehydrated had triggered him.

The cleaners needed to be called for another appointment after that. He had let loose on his apartment, punching and kicking in a flurry of hostility. His couch had taken the brunt of it, but some pillows and the lamps didn't make it out. Part of the problem was how the photo had triggered him. It reminded him of his early training under Snoke, when he had had to practice a move until it was perfect. He had not been permitted a break of any kind. No water, no food, no going to relieve himself. Snoke had told him it would make him stronger, hone his focus. All it had done was made Kylo desperate, weak from exhaustion, and earn a UTI. It was not one of his fonder moments.

He had been enraged at Snoke. When he had gone to training the next day, he had vowed to tell off the owner, but he had found his anger allowed him to channel his actions better. It fueled his motions into the perfection his mentor craved. And his hatred of Snoke vanished. Having to see Rey had suffered such cruelty at such a young age, unnerved him. She wasn't training. She was surviving. And it begged the question, how had she survived? And why did he care?

Obviously she had never let her past affect her education, which was admirable. Though it had seemed to impact her ability to reach out to others and make lasting relationships. While she was able to get along with others with little to no effort, maintaining actual relationships, appeared to be more challenging. From Phasma's digging, she had obtained a couple of photos and blog posts from Cal Poly where Rey had appeared next to the same two men who had helped her move in. Kylo assumed her boyfriend and his friend were her only real connections, unless he counted his uncle, which he preferred not to.

Kylo momentarily considered how the boyfriend factor would affect his attempt to get Rey to join the First Order. Would he be against it? Would he need to fight him on it? The possibility of taking out the other man gave him a twisted sense of satisfaction. He didn't know the man, but he already despised him. The girl couldn't have any interruptions to her training. She needed to remain focused on instruction and him.

It was at that moment, he focused on the noise, or lack thereof coming from the main studio. Class was over. He peered out to find the students departing. His uncle was talking to one mother, who was animatedly talking his ear off. Kylo took his chance, leaving his practice for later to search for Rey.

He found her in the office, her fingers rapidly typing away on his uncle's laptop. She was so engrossed in whatever task she had been given, she didn't notice him standing in the doorway. For a minute, he paused, taking in her form. She was hunched down towards the laptop, which should have been on a base to make it easier to work on. Her agile fingers were practically flying across the keys and her eyes were trained to the screen, determined as ever. She was chewing on her bottom lip, subconsciously and he found it endearing for some reason.

"Can I help you with something?" She asked, not pulling her gaze away.

Kylo forced himself not to flinch at having been caught staring. He had thought she was unaware of his presence. "I wanted to offer to train you," he stated. There was no use in beating around the bush. He wasn't sure if he'd get another chance to converse with her before his uncle swooped in to save her soul, or whatever. Luke Skywalker could be rather melodramatic. It was another trait that ran in the Skywalker line.

"Excuse me?"

Once again, she didn't bother to look up. It peaked his interest, making him more eager to uncover specifics about her and her life. He wasn't sure why he cares so much. Kylo refrained from getting too close to people out of habit. But there was something about this girl - Rey - that had him churning, lying awake at night wondering. She was a riddle he couldn't solve, the blank row across his Sudoku he could never figure out, the forgotten line of a song he kept hearing but couldn't put words to. She held him captivated.

"You need a teacher," he claimed.

Rey stopped worrying on her lip to smile. It was not a full blown grin, like he had witnessed before, but it was enough he felt comfortable entering the office. He took the seat across from her, noticing how her fingers stilled on the keys in front of her as he approached. Once he sat, she continued typing away.

"Master Luke is my-."

"My uncle has a limited perspective on things."

Rey raised her eyes, taking him in for the first time since the start of their conversation. She regarded him over the top of the screen, clearly thinking. Then, with a slight scoff, she gestured to the awards aside of the desk. "Then I guess those are just trinkets?"

Kylo laced his fingers together, leaning forward to prop his elbows up on the front of the desk. "I have more. They are at my apartment, if you are interested in checking it out."

Her face erupted in a bloom of red. It was only then he realized how suggestive his offer sounded. He needed to be more careful. If he scared her off before he had time to work with her, to mold her, he would lose any opportunity of obtaining the academy.

"I have a training room," he added, hoping it would clarify any questions over his intention. "It's state of the art with better equipment than here."

"Must be nice for you," she commented, returning to her work. She didn't seem impressed at all. In fact, her words almost echoed his from earlier, when he had spoken to the annoying child. And she seemed just as interested in him as he had been in Temiri. Kylo couldn't fathom why. She had come from nothing. She had been cast aside. She should have been jumping at the chance to train with a champion, to be in a large city, a luxury apartment with the best materials available. Instead, she appeared to be unaffected by his proposal, unaffected and uninterested. This was not going the way he wanted.

"We could go after my Jiu Jitsu class this evening," he continued.

"Can't," she shook her head. "I have work."

He reclined in the seat, observing her. From her face, he perceives she wasn't lying but he knew the schedule. She only taught in the early afternoon and the mornings. She wasn't assigned to any night classes. Those were reserved for the intermediate and advanced levels, the specialty classes. Then he remembered her disappearing act.

"Part-time job?" He guessed.

She nodded.

"Where?"

Rey's hazel orbs found his. She pursed her lips. Then, mimicking him, she leaned back in her seat, the laptop momentarily forgotten. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why is this so important to you? Last time I checked, you didn't want me here. So why the sudden interest in training me and what I do?"

Oh...right. She wasn't about to let him have this without a fight. She was a bobcat. He could see the wheels turning in her head, sense her claws ready to come out. In trying not to scare her, he had failed. She was being defensive, nice about it, in a clipped but professional sort of way, but still nice...at least nicer than he deserved. He needed to continue being honest. He had to build a level of trust with her. She had probably been lied to enough as a child she could smell one from a mile away, so he needed to walk a fine line between what he wanted long-term and what he could offer her.

"You have potential," he explained. "It intrigues me."

She crossed her arms over her chest, eyes still on him. "Because I punched you?"

He chuckled. "That's part of the reason."

"Not used to a woman striking you?" She quipped. "I would have thought with your award-winning personality, they'd be all over you." The snark in her statement was not missed. Her claws were out. It gave him an odd sense of satisfaction. The perky girl of sunshine was gone, replaced by this woman of grit and fire. It had him angling toward her again.

"My personality aside, I am serious about teaching you," he said, voice level.

Something changed in her expression. There was a slight flush of color, before she forced herself back to the keyboard. The clicking of keys became the only sound in the office. Kylo waited, intent on getting her to accept, no matter how long he had to keep up his requests. He'd find a way to break down her defenses. He was good at finding the cracks in others and exploiting them to achieve success. It was what made him a master fighter, he had skill and strategy.

"I can't pay you," she finally sighed, her answer barely audible over the clacking of her typing.

"I don't expect you to."

Her eyebrows raised at his reply. He began talking again before she could convince herself this was a bad idea. He had to make her feel comfortable, give her a say in this. "What days work best for you?"

"Sundays," she responded. "It's my only day off."

"Sunday it is," he agreed. He reached for a pen on the desk. "Let me write down my address for you and-."

"Sundays," she cut him off. "On one condition."

Kylo stilled, waiting for her terms. He should have expected her to test him, but he reminded himself, it had to be on her terms. She had to feel safe or she wouldn't open up to him. He needed her to open up. He needed to know everything about her. It was going to take time and building trust, but he had six months to kill. Kylo could work with that time frame.

"We do it here."

He wanted to scream or at the very least throw something across the room. Why did she insist on being at this dump? Why wouldn't she let him show her how much better things could be? What did she have against the luxury he could pamper her with? He thought about the files on his phone, recalled the numerous hospital visits, the picture of her in the dump. Realization dawned on him. She wasn't comfortable with fine things. Given her past, it probably served as a reminder of how little she had. Yet another thing he'd have to work with her on.

Her eyes held his, a silent standoff.

"Fine," he ground out.

Now her beaming smile graced her face. The smile of victory. "Fine." She dropped her gaze, back on her task. "Now get out. You're distracting me."

Kylo obeyed her request, walked out of the office to enter the studio. He wanted to re-position some of the bags for his Hapkido class. Only then, as he worked, did he register her words. Distracting? He distracted her? A sly smirk appeared, as he started preparing for the workout he was going to give his students. And the workout he was going to give her.

This was going to be fun.

A/N: I have been so honored by the response to this fic. It has a special place for me, since I am studying martial arts, so I appreciate everyone's love. As always, the biggest thank you goes to my beta myheadsinthegalaxy