AN

I'm mean, this is a cliff hanging two parter - I'll likely do a re-write on this sandpapery chapter and there will be a 2nd part within a day or so. Lots of love from your newly single author. Yay me!

-M

_

Days had passed since she had last seen him. She was sure he had slept at some point by the depression in the sheets next to her when she woke up. Despite the few traces he left, it appeared that Kylo Ren was distracting himself with work somewhere, keeping his mind occupied and as far away from her as he could. Neera was used to being confined to her own quarters; being locked up in here didn't make much of a difference beyond the lack of familiarity with her surroundings. She had, however, begun to become more concerned, though not at all surprised, about how he was handling his defeat on Starkiller and the self-inflicted trauma of having murdered his own father.

Neera spent her days trying to amuse herself with what little work she was given and studying the sparse and mainly military and history related archives of the ships library. With each day that passed without an actual sighting of her reluctant roommate she had grown more comfortable in the space. Neera leaned forward, elbows on her knees, in the deep leather chair opposite the helmet, her confinement and almost complete isolation had begun to breed not only boredom but a growing irritable frustration. She frowned at the dark mask before her catching glimpses of the memories the item held. The sound of heavy mechanical breaths, a hand reaching out desperate to save the child from a previous life, the hum of a light saber cutting down the only father he'd ever known.

"He doesn't speak." A low familiar voice broke her concentration. His presence set her immediately on edge, all of her muscles became concrete under her skin for a moment. She rapidly pulled herself from the comfortable depths of her isolation and forced herself to relax.

"He isn't silent though." She said as she leaned back in the chair continuing to stare down the mask, he hummed in reply. She listened as a few footsteps brought him closer, each step reminding her of his absence, of having been left alone in this damned room while he ignored his problems. When he finally reached her side she turned to look at him. The healers had obviously worked tirelessly on his more visible wounds. A tender looking bright pink scar ran from a thin line to a wider raised scar down his cheek before disappearing under a high dark collar. His eyes seemed somehow darker, more tired, and older, he met her gaze for a moment and for a moment her resolve was softened by his obvious torment. Then, he looked away and walked towards the bedroom. He ignored her yet again, her sympathy evaporated and the lonely frustration that had been bubbling for days erupted into full-fledged anger. Her mind became unfiltered and blindingly loud, it nearly stopped him in his tracks.

"Do you think what you're doing will make it all go away?" Her voice was tense as she rose from the chair. He froze just as he passed through the doorway, "You're ignoring the pull to the light, and you're burying what you did as though it never happened. You are ignoring the pain you feel because you believe it shouldn't have hurt; you're ignoring the consequence because you thought it was the solution." She approached him her voice was slowly rising, stronger with each accusation. She saw his shoulders rise and fall, a taught controlled inhale and exhale, she was getting to him. She could feel him recoiling, his anger building into a storm that was beginning to spread from his mind out into the room.

"You're hiding because you can't stand it." Her voice waivered with anger as she reached him, standing inches away. He turned on her, dark and dangerous, but so was she. Her rage was meeting his, she was angry that he had ignored her, she was heartbroken for him that he had chosen the path he did, and she was positively irate that he refused to accept that what he had done and that it hadn't made his path any clearer. "You were wrong."

"And you are a constant reminder." His voice was disturbingly quiet, and eerily gentle "You look into my mind, you trespass and take what you steal from my memories, you hurl them back at me-"his tone was becoming darker as he came closer to her.

"No one else will." She hissed. "The personage is not sacred, you are human. I'm just the only person in the Order who dares anger the Jedi Killer" He tensed at the name. She smiled, devastatingly sad and furious at the same time "See, even that bothers you, you don't push yourself. You bury yourself in belief and follow blindly... and it breaks my heart" all of the air seemed to leave her chest at the final admission. He took a step back and turned to sit at the end of the bed.

"It hurts." He said quietly, his tone more resigned, the exhaustion in his voice was palpable. Her resolve softened as he opened up, as much as admitting to the content of her accusations. She crossed the room and stood before him. "He's gone but I can still feel the call, and the girl…" he reached up touching the scar where it crossed just between his eyes before sliding his hand up through his hair. Neera could see images of the battle flitting through his mind she could feel the memory of pure adrenaline and searing pain as he fought against his own body to continue on through the duel. She reached up and placed her hand on his head, her fingers lacing over his. He wasn't hiding from her any more, he wasn't exactly working out his conflicts, but he wasn't running from them either. It was the closest he had come to accepting his other self, the part of him that was truly drawn to the light.

"That's enough for today" she decided, she was done pushing him. His hand slid away from hers and he looked up at her, her hand sliding to the scar on his cheek as he moved. He closed his eyes with a somewhat pained expression at the familiar gesture. "Kylo…" her voice was soft and low, he tensed at his name. The connection between them, the openness of his mind that had existed in the tense intimate moments severed like a thin strand broken by an icy guillotine. Her hand dropped from his face and she stepped back as he rose from his place on the bed.

"What are you doing?" The chill in his voice nearly struck her down. His mind pressed against hers, forcefully, violently. She could feel him searching for answers, trying to find some sort of motivation for her kind gestures, some trickery in her actions. She felt his sudden questioning and the air left her lungs as she grasped for how to reel him back in. She stood firmly as he loomed over her.

"You're not just pushing, you're pushing in a direction, and you're pulling, drawing me in." His mind was erratic and cloudy, she couldn't see into his thoughts. Lost for any way to manipulate she returned to the blunt honesty they'd shared moments before.

"I refuse to be your blind and silent follower Kylo Ren." She declared, her glare unwavering as she stared right back at him.

He walked around her pausing to lean down and question her once more, his lips inches from her ear. "Then what are you?" his voice was dangerously gentle but sensed hesitation in his reaction. He still trusted her, he wanted to believe her.

"I'm here. Not because I have to be, not because you frighten me, and by now I'm sure you know it's not because I am so desperately dedicated to the order that it runs through my veins." His hand gripped the back of her neck at the final rebellious declaration. She turned in his grip, pressing her bare throat against his hand; his grip loosened allowing her some movement.

"I'm not your captive, I'm not your enemy, I'm not your servant… but whatever path you choose," She reached up, one hand trailing to his side where the blaster wound was still tender beneath his tunic, "I'll be here." His grip loosened more, his hand moving to the side of her neck, his thumb brushing across her windpipe. He trusted her, she wasn't hiding anything from him, and he believed her.

She could feel him relax beneath her touch as her hand splayed out across his ribs, her free hand rising to rest on his chest. He wove his fingers through her hair his other hand winding around her waist as she leaned into his embrace. The room became incredibly heavy all at once, the air was thick and each move felt like it could spark a static shock. His hand pressed possessively against the small of her back, she gripped the tender wound at his side in response. He inhaled sharply and for a moment everything went still, their eyes locked and wrapped in one another's embrace they were still challenging each other, still defiant.

He retaliated first…