AN: Thanks as always to all the readers and reviewers! Anyway, I have no idea how tall Snoke is in actuality (given that we only saw him in hologram form ala Palpatine in ESB), but I suspect the hologram was making him look bigger than he actually is (like how Palpatine's hologram in ESB made his head look gigantic). Still, I decided to be ambiguous about it in this fic.
"Without a Heart"
By EsmeAmelia
Chapter 7
"I know what you did, Kylo Ren."
Kylo knelt before his master's throne, staring at the metal floor. "Yes," he replied, concentrating on keeping his voice steady and emotionless, "I cut off Han Solo's hand."
"And why did you do that?" Snoke's low, chilling voice asked.
"Is it your concern?" Kylo asked, keeping his head down. "Will him having only one hand affect your plan?"
"No," said Snoke, "but it seems that you are unable to handle his presence."
Kylo shot his head up, glaring up at his master. "I told you he means NOTHING to me!"
"Yet your actions prove otherwise. You are unstable around him."
Kylo leapt to his feet, staring up the many steps to his master's darkened throne, his breath increasing its intensity. "What do you need Han Solo for?" he exclaimed without thinking. "If you needed a hostage, we could have taken any other Resistance member who didn't need their vital organs replaced."
"It was you who created the need to replace Han Solo's vital organs," Snoke said simply.
"Because he needed to die!" Kylo shouted. "Now tell me, why did you need him?"
"Patience." Snoke merely gripped the arms of his throne. "I shall put my plan into action soon."
Kylo swallowed, staring unblinkingly up at him. "My lord, I will be the one to kill Han Solo when you are through with him, right?"
Snoke was silent.
"RIGHT?" Kylo yelled.
Snoke responded only with a sinister grin creeping across his face.
. . .
Leia was quiet during breakfast in Pooja's dining hall. The dream kept insisting on swirling around in her mind no matter how much she tried to concentrate on the food and conversation. Why would she dream about her husband's severed hand? As far as she knew, both Han's hands remained intact on the day he died.
Until Starkiller Base exploded, shattering his body into millions of pieces . . .
She absentmindedly stirred her Nubian oatmeal, noting that her left hand was still inexplicably numb. Maybe she slept on it the wrong way . . . but if that were the case, shouldn't there be some change in feeling by now?
Her hand . . . Han's hand . . .
Suddenly a long-ago memory came to her. When she and the others were fleeing Bespin just after Han was frozen, the day Vader cut Luke's hand off.
Her hand felt numb then, too.
She hadn't thought much of it at the time, but after she discovered she was both Luke's sister and Force-sensitive she looked back on it as the Force telling her what had happened to her brother.
The spoon fell against the edge of her bowl. No . . . no . . . Han was dead . . . she wasn't going to let herself be swayed by a delusion. It was a dream, nothing more.
"Leia?"
Her cousin's voice jolted her head up to see everyone at the table staring at her.
"Leia?" Pooja repeated. "Are you all right?"
Leia gulped, her breath coming in and out in short bits. "It's . . . it's nothing," she stammered. "I'm just . . . not hungry."
She rose from her seat and hurried out of the room before anyone could say anything.
. . .
Leia had never been good at meditation. There was always something pressing on her mind, be it the welfare of the galaxy or her family or her duties, which made clearing it very difficult. Yet here she was, sitting cross-legged on the floor of her bedroom, facing the view of the bustling city, trying to meditate.
She breathed in long, slow breaths, listening to the air coming in and out, in and out as her eyes slowly closed. This was probably a waste of time – in fact it would probably just give her even more grief. It was very likely that she was acting on false hope – no, she shouldn't think the word hope. There wasn't hope, she knew that . . . but then why was she even here?
"Han . . ." Her husband's name came out in the tiniest of whispers as she brought her mind back to the vision that had haunted her for a month. The saber going through Han's chest, the last touch, the fall . . .
The hand . . .
"Han . . ." she whispered again. She couldn't bring herself to utter the question out loud, didn't even want to consciously think it, but as she released herself into the Force, the forbidden question formed in her mind.
Han . . . are you alive?
. . .
Kylo stormed once more into the dreaded cell, finding Han napping again, which brought a sneer to Kylo's lips. What right did he have to sleep when Kylo lay awake for hours every night? If there was any justice he should be tormented by nightmares, but as a Force reach into his mind revealed, at the moment he was dreaming nothing.
At least the severed hand still rested on the machine in his chest, the skin already losing its color and beginning to shrivel. Han could look at the hand until it rotted away. That thought caused a small smile to push its way into Kylo's cheeks.
"Is sleep your only refuge, Han Solo?" he whispered, leaning over his father. "Where you can forget all that has happened? Where you can pretend everything is all right?"
Han stirred, causing Kylo to step back, his heart suddenly racing despite his face remaining stoic. He ground his teeth behind his lips as Han blinked his way back into wakefulness, gulping when he noticed his son.
"Hi Ben," he said in his rasp after a moment. "Here to cut off something else?"
"I might be," Kylo said in a hiss.
"Is that gonna make you happy?" Han asked, sincerity in his voice.
Kylo growled.
"Are you happy, son?" Han pressed. "All this power you got – does it make you happy?"
"Just STOP THIS!" Kylo yelled. "Your pathetic attempts to get your son back are useless."
Han blinked up at his son. "Can you blame a dad for tryin'?" His head turned slightly, facing the hand on his chest machine. "So, has my hand started to stink yet? I dunno if you know this, but since I can't breathe anymore that means I can't smell either." His head turned back towards his son, his mouth developing the slightest of grins. "Someone who can't see is blind, someone who can't hear is deaf, but what do you call someone who can't smell?"
Kylo glared down at him – he wasn't going to dignify that question with an answer. "Feel lucky you can't smell," he snarled. "You don't know how much you stink!"
Han's mouth twisted. "Well what'd you expect? I haven't bathed in ages. Your stormtroopers don't even brush my teeth."
Kylo felt his breath increase its tempo. "Need I remind you that the only reason you're alive is that Snoke thinks you may be useful?"
"You remind me of that every time you come here." Han kept looking at the hand. "So I guess gettin' this hand outta here is too much to ask?"
In a moment Kylo had his lightsaber drawn and hovering over his father's ankle. "Would you like a foot to join it?" he spat.
That finally shut him up. Once again Kylo felt the fear coming off his father, sensed his mind flashing back to the day on the bridge. Fear me, Han Solo. Yes . . . yes . . . you fear me. He pulled the blanket off of Han's foot, letting the blade's heat draw sweat out.
What seemed like several minutes passed as he held the blade over the ankle, savoring his father's fear, watching the sweat drizzle down his foot. He could just press down and Han would be missing a foot as well as a hand . . . it would be so easy . . .
"Ben?" Han suddenly said.
Kylo decided he wasn't going to answer to . . . to that name.
But the lack of an answer didn't stop Han from continuing. "Remember when you were a kid . . . how you always got excited when the Falcon jumped into hyperspace?"
Kylo didn't move.
"And how you liked to hide in the smuggling compartments on the Falcon?" Han continued. "I was always findin' your toys in 'em."
Kylo still didn't move.
"You used to make up so many songs when you were little." Now there was a tiny smile on Han's face. "I loved listening to them. You'd sit in my lap or Leia's and sing all evening . . . do you remember?"
Kylo's breath was coming out in heaves, but he still didn't move.
"And remember when we'd all go vacationing on Naboo together? How much you loved the beach?"
Kylo growled, baring his teeth at his father, still holding the lightsaber inches above his ankle.
"You lost a tooth at the beach once . . ." By now Han almost seemed like he was reminiscing to himself. "Remember? You were eating ice cream and the tooth came out right in your ice cream. Leia and me were all proud . . ."
Kylo screamed, that blood-curdling scream again.
And brought the lightsaber down.