What they had here, Rey thought, was a faulty compressor. She bobbed up and down as she examined the sparking protocol droid, uncaring of the engineer's critical gaze on her work. He would either trust her, or he wouldn't; all she cared about was getting this poor droid back in order.

"Error," the droid said weakly, "the system - is - faulty - my apologies - madam." It repeated that in Wookie, the roars tinny through the vocal box. She could upgrade that, too, if they had any spare parts around. Wouldn't be shocked if it was made of rusted or inferior materials; mass-produced droids rarely went for the much more durable option, thinking to push their new range out just in time for their previous versions to break down. This droid had been around for a few generations of software and hardware upgrades, and was clearly showing its age.

"Hang on," she reassured the droid, opening the hatch to its mainframe with deft fingers. "We'll get you sorted in no time." Rey hummed slightly as she examined the mess of wiring and rusted on parts. She turned to the engineer, one eyebrow cocked. "When was the last time this droid was serviced? No, don't answer - not since production, I can tell. You have to take better care of their hardware, otherwise it rusts up all bad. If you get me a brush, I can clean this all off and start repairing his compresser. I'll throw in a vocal box too, if you've the parts." She winced internally as she realised she was bargaining with the bemused engineer, who just nodded; he seemed a reserved type. Good hands, though, she could tell he loved his machinery by the callouses. And the oil stains.

She was soon scrubbing away at the rust on the protocol droid, humming lightly as she worked. It continued to sadly repeat its error message, and she amused herself by trying to name each language it ran through.

In truth, Rey was glad to be working. It made her feel useful, while everyone else was off discussing strategy and war. The grit beneath her fingernails reminded her of simpler struggles, for food, shelter, survival. She wasn't suited to complex political machinations, she reasoned, polishing off a bolt.

"That's a faulty compressor," said a deep voice from behind her. Her heart hammered and the brush dropped from her fingers; she whirled, cheeks pink at the indignity of being surprised. It was Master Skywalker.

"I know," she said carefully. He smiled, and leaned against the tool bench.

"Worked on many protocol droids?"

"This is my first, but they're like enough to other things." She cast her eyes down, and the brush rose jerkily from the floor. At first, she'd been thrilled about her connection to the Force, revelling in it wherever she could (much to Poe's mock groaning and the giggles of the other X-Wing pilots). Now, in front of Luke Skywalker, it seemed like so much child's play.

There was a noise so slight she thought she imagined it. "When did you learn to levitate?"

"Just. You know," she shrugged it off, "wanted it enough."

Luke studied her intently; embarrassed, she turned back to the shorting droid. "You are very… unique," he said, finally. She flushed, pressing her face deeper into the mainframe. "I have a proposition for you," he announced. Rey pulled back from the droid to look at him; he was flipping a wrench casually from hand to hand. Then, he paused, scratching his hair. "Well, it's more like - I need your help."

Rey's eyes lit up. "What's the deal?"

It was cold, and she was dying. Her breath puffed before her blurring vision, shaky little wisps that were rushed away by the roaring wind. The nightmare stood above her, eyes red, saber humming with furious energy. It fell on her, and she closed her eyes.

The blackness bloomed with blue light.

Rey woke with a muffled shriek, hitting her mouth to cover the noise. For several moments, she just breathed, unable to fully shake the terror of her nightmare. Already, the details of it were slipping away from her - but not the fear. Never the fear.

Even since they had destroyed the Starkiller, she hadn't been able to get a full night's sleep. It wasn't the same dream every night, but every time she woke afraid.

Karé stirred on the bunk beneath her, groaning briefly. "Y'kay?"

"Yeah," Rey stammered. "Sorry."

"S'alright," the captain muttered, and sheets crinkled as she rolled over. Soon, the small room was filled with the sound of her soft snores.

Rey clutched the sheet to her chest, small tears blurring the edges of her vision. This was ridiculous, she thought, dashing them away with her thumb. It was just a dream. The captain had been so good to her about this. The first few nights, Rey had been sleeping in the main dorms, but she could tell she annoyed the Resistance fighters with her constant, loud awakenings. Karé had stumbled across her sleeping in the hallway, and insisted that she take the top bunk in her room - "I'm afraid of heights anyway!" she said, refusing to take no for an answer. In retrospect, that quip didn't make sense from a starfighter pilot, but Rey had been too embarrassed to bring it up again.

It was a terrifying thing to try and trust all these new people; even though they were so nice, Rey couldn't help but feel as if they'd grow tired of her. Find her lacking in some way. It didn't help that Finn, the only person who'd ever come back for her, was still comatose. Despite the assurance that they were doing all they could... She had expected him to at least be awake when she returned with Skywalker.

Now she didn't know what to do. Medical stuff was so far out of her purview that she felt uncomfortable even hanging around the medical bay. She felt clumsy and out of place, in a way she never had the luxury of feeling on Jakku. This sense of unease bled into everything she did, everything she said. It was humiliating, suffocating in a way she'd never experienced.

Rey sighed, and pulled her hair into some semblance of order. Enough moping, she thought brightly. Today, she would finish on the rest of the droids that needed upgrading, check in on the rest of the ship's hardware, and… She swallowed, mood dropping.

Visit Kylo Ren.

It was completely worth it, one part of her argued; Jedi training with Master Skywalker was such a ludicrously unexpected proposal. How hard would it even be to talk to a prisoner?

He loomed over her, gloved fingers brushing against her jaw-line. "You know I can take what I want," he said, silkily. She shuddered in terror, recoiling into the chair, unable to escape his touch.

Rey shook her head to clear the image. This was different. She was in control now - he didn't even have access to the Force anymore, Luke had assured her.

She would deal with it later, she decided, dropping noiselessly from the top bunk. Karé snored on.

Rey had been expecting a dark room with a very evil looking chair in the center, for Kylo Ren to react to the door by spitting insults overlaid with an uncomfortable intimacy to his voice. Her day had been filled with sporadic contemplation on how to confront him.

The plainness of the room was off-putting. As was the sight of the cruel and violent man curled in a ball on the cot, his dark eyes dull and his sensitive face blank.

She paused for a moment, considering him; then, she sat, cross-legged, as close to him as she was comfortable, and began to speak: "So, I repaired an R-series astro today. Figured it had blown its optical drive, but actually it was the temp control. The first series is awful - they installed the thermal exhaust right near the opticals. I mean, what kind of idiot does that?" She paused - she swore that he had just glanced at her. "Uhm," she rubbed her nose, "I don't know how familiar you are with the unit, but that kind of structural fault cuts the optical life in half - and that's at best." He was definitely looking at her. He seemed curious, his forehead crinkling slightly. "It's just shoddy machinery in my mind, but he was too cute to scrap for parts. It was around for the Battle of Endor - have you - sorry, of course you know about it. Anyway…"

She chatted about her day for another twenty minutes, her discomfort at his gaze slowly giving way. He seemed content to just listen. When she left, she turned back at the door. "I'll come back tomorrow." Kylo Ren's gaze followed her the entire way to the mess hall, a ghost of some feeling she couldn't explain. She did not want to think about what had happened on Starkiller.

The nightmares came again that night.

"I've never played chess before," Rey admitted. Kylo stared at her. It was a comfortable routine they had slipped into. She tried to fill up his silence, and he sat still, listening with that same, intent gaze. "The wind's too fierce at night at home for setting up pieces, and there's too much to do in the day. I'd like to learn, but I don't want to ask anyone how. I think people assume everyone knows it anyway and…" Rey shrugged, picking at a loose scab. "Do you play?"

He didn't answer.

"It's hard to have a conversation with one person," she reflected aloud. "But it's okay. I kind of did at home, too. Do you want me to tell you about Jakku? I mean, there's not much to talk about really." Wincing, she locked her fingers together and stretched her arms above her head, rolling her shoulders. "There's a lot of sand," she said, simply. "Gets everywhere, but that's sand, I guess. The scariest moment I ever had was almost being caught by - the locals call it the Maker's Wrath. It sounds silly to outsiders, but you'd not want to be in it. The winds go all quiet for a few days - and the Uthuthma used to worship the wind, so the legends say that it was like the gods abandoning the planet. Then it's just on you. If you're not in shelter by then, you're either dead right there and then or you will be. It lasts for two weeks. The biggest one was a month. Howling winds like a hurt Gnaw-Jaw." Her cheeks darkened when her stomach growled abruptly, and she realised how into the story she'd gotten. She glanced around for something to eat, and saw six trays neatly piled to the side of the entrance. Rey frowned.

"Have you not eaten?" He blinked, slowly. Now that she really looked at him, his pale cheeks were sunken in, and there were dark rings around his eyes. She picked up a tray, and put it on the table. "Eat."

Kylo did not move.

"You don't want to die, surely?" she asked incredulously. "Don't be stupid, have something to eat." He stared at her, blinking slowly. Hesitantly, she approached the cot where he was curled in on himself. "Have something to eat… Ben." He snorted suddenly, and turned away, chain clanking. Unthinking, she reached out for him, hand brushing against his arm, determined to make him eat.

An electric jolt passed up her fingertips, and Rey yelped. Kylo must have felt it too, because he looked back at her, eyes wide. When their eyes met, she felt a clench in her gut, her head spinning.

Suddenly, she was looking at herself. What? she thought, blurrily. Why do I look so tall?

Get. Out. Of. My. Head. A furious, snarling voice was at the back of her mind. Stunned, she blinked - and was back to herself, staring down at Kylo Ren. She staggered back, raising a hand to her mouth as shame and nausea and fear rose like bile in her throat.

The silence that had before been so comforting was now claustrophobic.

"I'm sorry," Rey whispered.

"Why bother, Jedi?" Kylo shocked her by replying, his quiet voice jagged from lack of use. He was shuddering with barely contained fury, and she suddenly felt afraid of him. "Why apologise to the pathetic Sith? If I had my powers, I would kill you where you stood, you repulsive FILTH." She jumped backwards as he screamed, and he followed her, lurching forward violently. She slammed into the table, pain shooting down her side. She was trapped.

He loomed above her, incandescent with rage. There was a madness in his eyes that she had never seen, intense and yet distant, as if he were in another place and another time. She raised her hand defensively as he leaned towards her, and he snarled aloud.

"You will not harm me," she said, with more confidence than she felt.

His face contorted. "I will kill you," he shrieked, fighting off her control. His hand jerked towards her throat, as if he meant to use the Force to choke her.

"You will not harm me," Rey shouted, compelling him with all her might. His eyes burned into hers, lit with fury, and then he crumpled to the floor. Rey stood where she was, panting heavily and staring at him. Her mind was awash with panic – how had he been able to fight her control? What had that connection been before?

Rey groaned, suddenly feeling nauseous; she wrapped her arms around her stomach and leaned forward. That had been terrifying. His complicit silence over the past few days had lulled her into a false sense of security – convinced her that this man was harmless, broken. He was anything but. More like a wounded and rampaging animal.

It took her several moments to overcome the dizzying urge to throw up and faint simultaneously. When at last she opened her eyes, Kylo was still unconscious on the floor.

Even out cold, he looked agonized, as if being torn in two by some invisible force. Rey shook her head and sighed. Finding Ben Solo was going to be much harder, and much more dangerous, than she had first thought. Maybe this wasn't such a certain deal after all.