A/N: Again, thank you for the responses! It's a Christmas miracle! Just a heads-up that I might start throwing out some review responses at the bottom, to answer any questions I think should have answers. This one is a little short, but I feel it's necessary development.
Duality
Chapter 4
She's made her decision. She's given in to the machine, if only to save one cog. One long-haired, semi-psychotic cog. She hates herself too much to cry, but the tears fall anyway, as if they're trying to escape her. She reaches up to cover her eyes with a forlorn forearm, but his hand catches it mid-arc. He holds it firmly in place as his other hand comes up to cup her face. He raises her chin, and she's looks at him through the watery film. He's…almost smiling. His eyes are soft.
"You won't fail me, Rey," he murmurs. His fingers almost imperceptibly caress her skin. "I know you won't."
Her mouth opens, but she finds her tongue as equally lost as her head. His fits of temper were far more frightening than his glimpses of humanity. He seems to remember himself, and suddenly the anger is back. His invisible mask slides back into place as he stands. "Come," he orders, and begins to walk toward the exit.
She follows him out of the room she has come to hate more than anything and down the hall. She takes the opportunity to get a look at the interior of Starkiller Base. It is aptly named, she surmises; the facility is massive, a labyrinth of metal and pipe. Such was the grandeur of the First Order, she guesses. Hundreds of faceless Stormtroppers stand like pillars of salt all about the Base, going about their routine tasks and activities. There were so many of them. In the pit of her stomach, a knot takes up residence. The Resistance had no chance at their current capacity.
After a short walk, they arrive at a small set of rooms. He points to the one on the left. "These are to be your quarters, now. Everything you need, you'll find." He pauses, then smirks. "Mine are directly next door, in case you were already dreaming up some convoluted escape plan."
She narrows her eyes, but says nothing. He gestures for her enter, and she does so begrudgingly. Inside is bare and cramped. He was right; there really were only the essentials. A bed, a dresser, a refresher off to the side, and a few miscellaneous other furnishings. But she guesses she can't really complain; she had lived out of the husk of a destroyed starship for the majority of her life. Anything with a roof that didn't leak or was free of random wild creatures of the sand was better. She walks over and takes a seat on the bed.
She watches him as he slowly paces the room, looking over everything. If she didn't know him, she might have thought he was nervous. It seemed…almost humanizing.
Ridiculous. Sith don't get nervous.
Her reverie is broken as he begins to speak. "You will refer to me as Master from now on. You will act in a manner that shows as much respect as my title deserves. Insolence won't be tolerated. Though, I guess it must be second nature to you desert rats."
She huffs, but doesn't push. He continues.
"I will teach you everything I know. I will show you how to command the Dark Side of the Force. It is a different tool than the Jedi use, but ultimately more powerful. If one knows how to use it, there are no limitations to what he or she can accomplish." He looks sharply at her. "To what we can accomplish."
"You're afraid of the Dark Side," he goes on, slowly approaching her. "You think it is evil; you think it is nefarious. These are bold lies. The Light isn't so self-sacrificing as you might think, just as the Dark isn't always as immoral as many make it out to be. They are two sides of the same coin. Wielding it is like wielding yourself; the Dark Side draws upon your strongest emotions and empowers you with them. The Light….The Light eschews them. This is their greatest mistake."
He kneels before her. He's making quite a habit out of it, she thinks. "Don't you trust your emotions, Rey? Aren't they what make you a person?"
"Yes…" she agrees tentatively. "But they also can be wrong. Sometimes emotions are irrational. They can lead to fault and too-quick decisions."
"The Sith embrace their emotions, and yes, they can be hasty. But the intelligent individual knows what is useful and what is not. The Dark Side is key to maximizing your effectiveness as a Force-user." He looks directly into her eyes, and she notices for the first time the orange flecks that dot his russet irises. "Without the Dark Side, your emotions only hinder you. With it, they are your greatest weapon."
"Master…" she begins with a slight hesitation, the taste of his newfound title both stinging and exciting on her tongue. "How does the Dark outweigh the Light? Why do Light-wielders defeat the Dark many times?"
"Because they are strong, too," he answers, with an edge to his silky voice. "But eventually they fail, because they are deluded. They do not understand. They do not understand me. They do not understand what I have come here to do."
"And what is that, Master?" she prods.
He looks away momentarily, before brushing it aside. "That is for another time, Rey. For now, you must be outfitted." He motions toward the dresser. "Go, open the first drawer. Retrieve what you find there and put it on."
She complies and finds within the drawer a long, black robe with an attached hood. She slides it on over her body and is surprised at how well it fits. Questioningly, she looks at Kylo.
He grins slightly. "If you're wondering, yes, I had it made. The moment you arrived here. I knew you would be mine. You, as well as I, know the pull."
She cannot deny that the attraction between their energies is all too real. It is strong. In the small room, standing so close to him, she can almost feel the thickness of the tension between their essences. His Dark crackling against her aura of Light. It makes her skin prickle.
"Tomorrow we will begin your training," he states. "You will learn to understand the Force, its ebbs and flows, its nooks and crannies. Once you accomplish that, nothing will be in our way."
She nods. She is weary. Fighting the temptation of the Dark Side had become an all-consuming battle. To look at him too closely was to weaken her defenses. His eyes were gateways into the fires of the Darkness. His mouth a vessel that would take them both to the grave. She didn't know what to think anymore.
He is gone in a billow of robes and a swish of long, dark hair. She takes a moment to center herself, to remember who she is, before exploring what little there is to of her room. She pauses before the mirror in her refresher, and she nearly gasps at picture enclosed in its four glass corners. She barely recognizes herself. Her cheeks are gaunt, and her eyes look as hollow as a tomb. Her athletic form is still present, though it has become much thinner.
She stops when she meets her own eyes. This time, she audibly inhales. Her knees slacken, and her heart drops as if she's fallen from a cliff.
No…
There, in her right iris, is a tiny sliver of orange, surrounded by a sea of hazel.
