Three days.
He'd been gone three days and Rey was beginning to go a little stir crazy. She hadn't been able to leave the room once, the only interruption to the silence being the service droid that brought her meals – other than that, nothing. She was alone, with no idea what was happening to Kylo. She thought maybe she'd be able to feel him, through the Force as he had felt her before – but there wasn't the slightest whisper.
Utterly alone and utterly trapped, all she could do was wait with baited breath, and it was killing her. Each day the cold walls seemed to creep in on her more and more and she found herself wishing for the vast open world of Jakku. Yes, she had been alone there as well – but at least she could move, run – forget, at least for a time. There was no escaping this situation though, the dread she felt reflected back at her from every direction; each muted color and simplistic yet effective design screaming Kylo Ren's name in her head.
Everything about his quarters spoke of necessity and efficiency – no boisterous furniture or lavish designs, everything done in darks and shades – lifeless – no personal touches even, save for the mangled object he kept in the corner of his bedroom. Rey found herself instinctively avoiding it, not allowing her eyes to wander over its melted and broken surface; something about it made her deeply uncomfortable, like she was looking back at something inhuman and wrong – monstrous. In fact, it wasn't at all unlike how she felt around Kylo when he wore his mask – as though everything that made him human disappeared, leaving a cold, empty, and unfeeling shell behind to wreak whatever havoc and pain it so pleased.
The deep mechanistic sound of his voice, distorted by the modulator, played through the back of her mind as she forced her eyes away from the obsidian podium on her way to the 'fresher. Being locked within Kylo's suite for days, she'd had practically nothing to entertain herself with – the daily shower that at first seemed like a luxury, was becoming second nature to her, not to mention a necessary reprieve from the hours of endless silence; the hours of not seeing anyone, not talking to anyone – or anything.
She noted, as she trained her eyes away, that the only part of his room that spoke of any sort of wealth or extravagance was the ebony headboard of his bed. It's intricacy had partially registered in her mind before – when she was pulled up against it in conversation with him, but it wasn't until now that she truly took in it's detail; the deep colored wood was scrolled and carved to resemble what Rey thought were waves – she'd never seen the ocean (any ocean), but in her dreams she imagined waters blue as sapphire and islands green as emerald – the gentle waves lapping at shorelines while, further out, large caps rose and crashed against each-other in tandem.
The carved peaks and hollows of the piece were even layered to give the depth of an endless ocean, like it wasn't just art – but a true representation of the sea itself. Rey found herself drawn to the elegant mixture of rough and smooth wood, the differing textures giving even more life and reality to what should have been such a simple object. She ran her fingers along its surface – taking in every groove and fissure, every swoop and swirl that was indicative of some new aspect of the wildness that was the ocean. She was alone, and she let her eyes wander over its surface as though it were a miracle – like endless hopes and dreams had just manifested themselves in Kylo Ren's quarters.
Kylo, it wasn't just her dreams that the headboard reminded her of, no – it was that day in the training room that seemed like so long ago but in reality, had only happened four days ago. Rey could picture it clearly in her mind as her eyes stayed glued to the carved wood – how Kylo's manifestation of the Force had appeared like dusky waves, swirling, and bathing his features as though it was water. Where she was surrounded with light, wispy energy – the Force curled around him, thick with emotion and viscous like water. It made her see that, of everything in these rooms, the headboard spoke of him the most. From what Rey could tell, this representation of the vastness of seas, which would look over him as he slept, was the only thing here that resembled the parts of himself he kept buried beneath the cold mask of Kylo Ren.
That realization made her want to learn more – to find out who Kylo truly was – maybe then she could connect his person to something else in his quarters, maybe then he wouldn't feel so dis-attached and distant from the reality that she had been thrown into when she left Jakku. Rey wasn't even embarrassed with herself that she'd spent Maker knows how long staring at a piece of furniture – the only thought in her mind was of him – who he was and… how he was.
She had to swallow back a lump of fear as she turned to the 'fresher once more. Every day he was gone made it harder to ignore why he was gone – what Snoke might be doing to him at this very moment. She only had the one memory to go off of, and if that served as any indication – she couldn't even imagine the pain he must be in at this very moment. Hating that she could feel concern for the man who killed Han Solo and countless others but absolutely loathing the fact that she couldn't feel him the way that he had felt her, she tried to push the thoughts out of her mind.
If she could do anything, anything at all, she would – but he'd left her trapped in here – with everything of his except for himself. He'd left her safe and secure, so he could face the punishment Snoke deemed worthy for his saving her.
A silent tear slipped down her tanned yet sallow cheek, wetting the lines on her face that spoke of conflict and guilt, as she pulled the bed coverings around her shoulders and settled into the divan. Curling arms around her long legs, Rey tried to bring forth the island, her solace – if only to quiet her emotions. Rationality battled her honest thoughts – conflicted emotions about how she should and how she did feel about Kylo Ren – as she pinched her eyes shut and tried to will herself to sleep. It felt like hours before her mind finally began to slow, her muscles loosening where they lay as the tension receded from her features and her eyes finally stayed closed of their own accord.
Four Days.
Rey sat, curled up in dark bedclothes, on the unwelcoming divan that had become her home. While the view above her through the glass was breathtaking – endless deep space, swirling stars lighting up the unknown – the divan itself was less than comfortable. Hard and flat, with no give, the surface, which appeared plush and inviting with its deep leather upholstery, had succeeded in riddling her muscles with knots and filling her bones with an ache worse than any she'd known on Jakku. Still, she stubbornly chose to continue sleeping on the dreaded furniture which didn't even compare to the makeshift bed back in her AT-AT.
Her meal deliveries were still the only interruption to her solitude, the service droid providing much needed breaks from the utter silence. Every time her meal arrived, the droid cleared away dishes with a little more food left on them – when it came tonight her plate would be taken from the room untouched and barely even looked at. Her appetite was continuously shrinking, the swelling fear and dread steadily taking its place within her body. She often felt sick to her stomach when she looked at her food – when she wondered if he had eaten, when she wondered if he were alive.
Even though she knew it was wrong, Rey would give anything just to know if Kylo Ren were alive. Her attitude and view of him so drastically different than before – she just wished she could hear some whisper, some indication in the Force that he was still breathing. With nothing else to do with herself, Rey spent hours just sitting there, curled up - trying to manifest the Force – to probe into it and utilize it to find Kylo. She wouldn't need much to put her mind at ease, but it didn't matter, because no sign ever came. No subtle flutter or silent flickering of life in the darkness, no recognition of his Force signature – nothing, everything she tried, everything she did – it all just ended up in more silence.
Silence surrounded Snoke where he sat, deep in contemplation; Kylo Ren was, for all intents and purposes – incapacitated, for the time being at least. Silent and immobile, encased in the darkness, he knew that if he deigned to return to the Finalizer that this is what he would find of his apprentice. The girl may have broken through his hold before, but she was still weak and unfocused – she would not break this spell.
He left him, four days past, the dark tightly wrapped around his limbs – burning reminders of his disobedience; Snoke wasn't particularly unhappy about the death of General Hux – but the loss of his military commander had been unexpected. Then there was the blatant rebellion that Kylo Ren had shown when he turned his back to his Master – that in and of itself was unacceptable. His apprentice would see the error in his ways after such a stasis – an endless sea of painful reminders of the past, his own foul deeds as well as the events of before, when he was known as Ben Solo. His eyes would not open and his mind would not surface until Snoke allowed it – until he was sure that the lesson had been stitched into every nerve, muscle, and bone in Kylo Ren's body – he will learn his place.
The situation provided an opportunity however – Kylo Ren was, for the moment, out of the way; leaving this scavenger girl with such promise alone and unguarded. Her seemingly unwavering connection to the light side of the Force was troublesome though, and as a result, all his efforts to reach her – to whisper – had been in vain. He needed a bridge if he were to enter her mind – a conduit of sorts to break through the veil. It would be by chance, he knew – a simple action on her part that would let him in, that would give him access. He would just have to wait and hope – something Snoke never did, never allowed himself to do, but the power that this girl could offer them elicited such a response in the twisted figure anyway.
Five Days
It was becoming too much, or perhaps too little; too few sounds to interrupt the silence that all but enveloped Rey as she moved listlessly throughout Kylo's empty quarters. Her mind weighed down with impossible imaginings of the horror's that Kylo might be going through. Dark tendrils burned across the back of her mind as she continuously recalled the agony that had painted his face the last time he had seen Snoke.
She no longer cared that she wasn't supposed to feel this way; knowing what was happening to him took precedence over everything else. The guilt was gone, replaced wholly and completely by fear – and loneliness. It had been hard to accept, but Rey had no one to impress here – no one at all – and she had come to realize just how much she missed him. They'd barely known each-other for a second, but already, she felt a closeness with Kylo Ren that she'd never felt with anyone else before.
Finn and Han had showed her kindness, but so had Kylo, and she was beginning to understand how difficult that was for him – how much his position within the First Order, as Snoke's apprentice, practically forbade him from treating her the way he did – for saving her as he had. She missed Finn and Han for sure, but it was a dull ache and ever receding; they were her friends, but she had only known them just briefly, and their acceptance of her was easy – there were no underlying, drastic consequences attached when they protected her. Yes, the rescue mission had put them all in danger on Starkiller and had cost Han his life – a silent tear rolled down her cheek as she remembered his death - but the actual act of knowing her wasn't dangerous. Kylo on the other hand – he knew what it would cost him to save her, Rey was sure of that; he knew the pain and torture that Snoke would have waiting for him – yet he did it anyway.
There was something, a familiarity she thought, that drew them together – a similar upbringing, a mirrored sense of complete and utter solitary in this vast galaxy that made it easier to understand each other – even to trust each other. She did, she realized, trust him – at least more than she had anyone else; despite their positions, he'd never lied to her, and he was right when she said she'd be safe here in his quarters – only the service droid broke the silence, rolling in the next meal and clearing the previous – which were now always, completely untouched.
Rey had managed on little and sometimes no food on Jakku – but the hunger was always there, it was never a choice not to eat but simply a lack of anything to eat. It was completely opposite now though, with plenty of highly flavoured and rich foods delivered directly to her – yet she couldn't bring herself to eat them. Her appetite was gone, and her insides seemed a hollow black pit. She wasn't purposefully starving herself, but even the thought of food was nauseating – so when the service droid appeared again, she shuffled off, lethargic and tired, to the other room so she wouldn't have to smell the vapours floating off yet another hot meal that she would be ignoring.
She closed the door behind her, tuning out the sounds of the droid as it underwent its monotonous task, and let her eyes drift around the room. Nothing had changed, no one had disturbed the covers on the bed and the obsidian podium still dominated one corner of the room. Normally she avoided its dark surface, but today something drew her in – like an invisible hand beckoning her forward until she was standing directly in front of it, fingers hovering just above the melted, ash grey metal of the object that Kylo obviously prized.
Unlike before, she took the time to observe, her trained eyes running over the interlocking parts and wires that had been exposed by the damage. Even melted and twisted as it were, it didn't take long for her to realize that she was looking at a mask – one not too unlike Kylo's – the voice modulator was easy to recognize now that she was looking for it. She didn't know its origins, who it belonged to – but it was technology, parts – and even in her depressed state her body reverted to muscle memory – wanting to pull it apart, to salvage what might still be useful. She was really only half aware of her fingers reaching, closing the distance – until her skin made contact with the rough surface.
Something shuddered through her veins, burning with an indignant purpose, stealing her thoughts and rationality – her mind instantly filled with countless reminders of how she'd been left alone in the desert. The ship that had brought her to the surface quickly peeling back out of the atmosphere as she screamed, Unkar Plutt's meaty hand holding her small arm back as she tried to give chase. The wall in the AT-AT walker that was almost completely white from the numerous, tightly packed scratches she made to count the days – the days she'd spent waiting for her family to come back to her. A younger Rey, silent tears leaving tracks in the dirt that coated her skin, the flight helmet pressed over the buns in her hair as she huddled, frightened and cold, inside her makeshift home while the howling winds of a desert storm threatened to tear everything to shreds.
Hate them.
The words flitted around inside her mind as she tried to beat back the painful memories. Hatred had never been something she'd felt towards her estranged family before, but the thought of it seemed to heat her blood – as though the emotion itself was enough to fight the hurt.
You should hate them for what they did to you.
Should she? Hate them for leaving her? Rey didn't know the reason, it could've been anything, but even then, in all the years that she'd spent scavenging to stay alive, not once had she come up with a valid excuse that would explain their absence for fourteen years. She'd been so young when they left her that she didn't even know her own age, nineteen was what she guessed – but she didn't know. They did that, her family – left her without another piece of information, another piece of herself.
Anger. For the first time that she could recall, Rey felt anger towards her past, towards the people who had abandoned her – could she even call them family? What if she'd never had one to begin with? What if she'd been tossed aside at birth, and then again on Jakku? She couldn't remember anything before the sand, before the scorching sun – so she had no idea, and it was infuriating.
It was like a red fog, slowly rolling in from the black depths of her mind to settle across her vision, across her thoughts. It clouded the feelings she'd held on to for so long – sadness, longing, the need to be accepted – and replaced them with a steadily rising rage that seemed to boil the blood in her veins. She wanted to hate them, curse her family for abandoning her to such a harsh and unforgiving life. What could such a young child have done to deserve being tossed aside as she had? There was no excuse.
It was as though something, or someone was there with Rey – silently goading her on every time the hate reared up, fresh and stronger than before, inside her mind. As though that was the goal – to replace everything inside with white hot rage, to alter her perception of the world – to change her very beliefs.
You should hate them for what they made you become.
The next set of echoing whispers that penetrated her thoughts was like a bucket of ice had been dumped on her, the haze clearing from her mind as reason slowly returned to her thoughts.
No, that's not right. This isn't right. She didn't hate who she'd become, so she couldn't hate them for it. No, her life may have been hard – dreadful at times – but she was indignantly proud of the fact that she didn't need to rely on anyone else, that she didn't need anyone else's help to survive. Rey may have spent her entire life wanting to be accepted, included – loved – but she didn't need it.
These thoughts didn't belong to her, they couldn't belong to her – not while they contradicted the one thing about herself that she held on to so tightly. That realization had the darkness peeling itself from her mind, the torturous reminders leaving as quickly as they came as Rey slowly reopened her eyes. Everything in the room was still the same and her hand still rested lightly on the sooty surface of the unknown mask.
Her previous avoidance of the mask, the unwillingness to even glance in that general direction, had been well warranted it would seem. She didn't know why she saw what she saw and thought what she did – but it was obviously connected to this object, cold and dead under her fingers. She wanted to be as far from it and whatever it had done to her as possible, yet she still proceeded with a slow caution as she carefully removed her digits, one by one, from its surface.
Glossy and black, the material shone as if it were brand new in five perfect ovals that marked where the tips of her fingers had rested. Rey stared, both in awe and fright, between her fingertips and the mask; where the material looked fresh and renewed, the pads of her fingers were rimmed with an angry red, the skin slightly puckered as if it were burnt. They stung slightly as she touched them together – thumb to each finger – testing them.
She didn't know what it meant, and in that moment, she wasn't sure she wanted to find out.
If Snoke and Kylo Ren had similar personalities, the Supreme Leader's ship would be in ruins – consoles sliced and melted, doors Force pushed off their hinges, entire decks collapsed from sheer rage alone. He was not like Kylo Ren however, the utter silence and outward serenity indicative of that fact.
Everything around Snoke was in perfect order, not an object disturbed, but inside his mind was a different matter. No progress had been made with the scavenger – he sought to twist her past until he could use it to motivate her towards their cause. It had been working, or so he had thought, but as quickly as he'd made a connection with her – she'd managed to push him back. She wasn't aware of why she heard the whispers that she did, of that much he was certain, but he had been wrong to assume her distaste with her current person. Careless, is what it was; an excitement he hadn't felt in literal ages had filled him as he witnessed her accepting and harnessing the darkness of rage and hate – so hopeful that his plan would proceed much quicker than anticipated. But it had all but backfired with that one misstep and he was livid – furious with himself for once, instead of his favorite scapegoat – Kylo Ren. He'd almost forgotten about his apprentice, not bothering to check just how much pain and torment his powerful extension of the Force was causing.
Perhaps he had gone about winning over the girl the wrong way – perhaps she required a more, indirect, method of persuasion. He allowed his mind to drift towards his apprentice then, taking in the darkly dressed figure where he knelt – many systems away – encased in darkness. A crooked grin painted Snoke's features as he watched and planned. He was always planning something.
Six Days.
Dark hair, soft curls – a pale, drawn face with too-big ears and a large awkward nose. Deep, almost black eyes, that bored into their surroundings – observing, recognising the masses of bodies swarming around, doing their duties. So many people, so many faces – but never the ones he was looking for.
Alone.
No one cares.
They never really loved me.
Silent whispers echoed through the dream, filling the gaps and dark spaces in her periphery – telling Rey things that he had only ever thought. His eyes never stopped searching, no matter where he was – where she saw him. It seemed he was always waiting for someone to show up – to take an interest.
The vision shifted and again, Rey was met with his solemn stare as he watched three figures turn their backs to leave him. First, a man – Rey had always assumed he was his father but now she knew for sure that it was the truth - the silhouette showing her his back, even at this significantly younger age was, without a doubt – Han Solo; side by side with Chewie as they approached the Falcon together.
And then a woman she assumed was his mother, General Leia Organa she now knew; someone Rey had never actually seen – leaving aboard another ship – some new government matter that needed tending to – the words whispered in her mind, explaining. It was never him that they were going to see, it was only when their business Force knows where was finished and they had nothing left to do that they would drag themselves back to him and their seemingly always empty home – or at least that's how it had always felt.
The scene shifted again, and this time, both his parents were there, paying attention for once – but their eyes were filled with fear and apprehension. Even as a bystander Rey could tell they were afraid of their son. She could see the pain that he'd never let rest on his face now, but was so clearly painted on his features then – how much he wanted them to just accept him, love him.
Another shift and she was watching them leave again, side by side with the maturing boy, some formidable temple dominating the background. Their separate crafts lifted up and out of the atmosphere with no hesitation and he was left alone - again. Other kids and adults surrounded him every day, but no one – not even his uncle - really paid him any mind. They turned their gazes in fear of this newcomer, or whispered under their breath about his awkward features and strange demeanor. They admonished him for being so skilled with the Force – they tried to squander him, control him; never allowing him to utilize his powers. Isolated and alone in a sea of people that should've been just like him – a sea of people where he could find no belonging, only hatred and anger. Where his only friend, his only solace was the creeping night that whispered of greatness, of acceptance – of a new life.
Everything started melding together then, multiple images and emotions flitting across the backs of Rey's eyes as she struggled in her sleep. She could see the growing fear on the other kids faces, a burning temple, ever present darkness – rage. The rage and hate he felt grew stronger with each new image – death, destruction, blood and –
Her eyes snapped open, breath rapid and uneven as she quickly sat up against the viewscreen, her legs hung over the side of the divan. It wasn't the first time she had seen visions like these, his memories – were they? Was she actually seeing Kylo's memories in her dreams? – but it was the first time she knew who she was seeing. It was the first time that she recognized the players – the first time that she recognized Kylo Ren… - or Ben Solo? – as the young man at their center. It all made sense now, why she'd thought all along that they had something in common, how she knew that he felt just as abandoned and unloved as her – he'd never told her, a part of her had just known – from the moment he'd first removed his helm.
It was too much, too fast and she found herself quickly stumbling over the covers and into the 'fresher. If she'd had anything in her stomach it would have come up, but the lack of food resulted in what felt like an endless spell of dry heaving. Feeling all those emotions about his past, the pain he went through – how similar they had viewed everything and everyone, how isolated they had both felt. Knowing, for the first time, that the boy she had seen in her dreams for years was the same man who took her prisoner, was holding her captive – and, was most likely in unimaginable pain while he endured burning torture as punishment for protecting her. The unknown boy she had seen for years could be dying…because of her. Her weak body couldn't handle the shock of that revelation and she quaked where she knelt on the cold floor of the 'fresher.
Wiping her mouth as she stood up to take in her reflection, she was frightened by the face that peered back at her. In all her years on Jakku, she had never seen herself look so dead and hopeless. Sallow skin and deep purple bags under her eyes attested to the lack of sleep and nutrition she'd been getting. Her hair was unkempt and mussed, she no longer concerned herself with putting it in buns – or even running her fingers through the long and now dull, chestnut locks. Rey looked as sick as she felt, and she hated herself for being so weak – for caring so much, so fast. It didn't make sense, she didn't want to feel this way – but it was undeniable. Kylo Ren was the only reason she was falling apart at the seams. The only reason the multitude of tears she'd been holding back came rushing down her face, soaking her tunic as her uncontrollable sobs filled the empty rooms.
Seven Days
The clothes he'd prepared for her hung a little loser on Rey's malnourished body; three, soon to be four full days with no food taking its toll on her health. She rarely left the divan; too tired to move around, she hid beneath the stolen covers willing herself to sleep – to pass the empty time away, so she wouldn't have to think.
She tried to eat her dinner when it arrived, but the singular bite she managed to take was met with another wave of nausea, another surge of guilt. Pushing the tray away from her, she pulled her legs back up against her chest, head tucked against her knees and hair forming a veil around her features – the dark ends tickling her shins where they fell on the thin fabric of her leggings. She heard her rapid breathing more than she felt it, as she dropped to her side – limbs in the same position and pulled the covers over herself, willing her mind to calm as she did so.
She fell asleep like that, curled up at one end of the divan – the starlight that streamed in above her painting the floor in its radiant glow and shrouding her in shadow where she lay beneath the viewscreen.
It was late into the Finalizer's night when Kylo Ren returned to his quarters, removing his helm as he stepped into the dark room – the stars illuminated the room just enough to provide a slight outline of the furniture. He'd left Rey alone in here for almost seven full days, with no indication as to when he'd return – because he hadn't known himself. He'd imagined what Snoke would do – but he didn't know the extent of the Supreme Leaders rage – he had failed him. There was no regret in protecting Rey, he only wished he could've done so without defying, without disappointing his master.
So many days reliving the past – that pain, remembering how the only one who'd been by his side through it all was Leader Snoke. For almost seven full days he had knelt in the great receiving chamber, completely unaware of the world around him – completely closed off to the outside. He'd lived in his mind completely – his body put into a sort of stasis, a power that he'd never seen Snoke use before – that he never wanted to see again.
He had to do better, he had to find a way to ensure that he never disappointed Snoke again, that he never let his allegiance falter. Rey wouldn't understand, she couldn't understand – but Kylo knew he couldn't fail him again – he wouldn't fail him again. He wanted so desperately to keep her safe and protected, but he didn't know, if push came to shove, who he would choose the next time such a pivotal decision had to be made.
One thing Kylo did know, was that he wanted to see her – the scavenger girl who had turned his life upside down, the wild thing he'd let roam free in his private rooms for a week – he wanted to see Rey.
Leaving his helmet behind, he moved into the bedroom only to find the bed stripped and bare, the 'fresher empty – Rey was gone.
"No."
No, no, no
Despair flooded through him instantly. He'd promised she would be safe – where was she, had Snoke sent more men in here after he left? Had he blocked her so Kylo wouldn't feel her pain this time? Had she run – escaped? He didn't want to believe that she would leave after what they had experienced together, but his rationality was fading. Emotions always ran high within him, engulfing everything else in their sheer mass – he couldn't think straight, the idea of her being gone wrecked him.
Anger and loss swirled within him as his breath quickened, he was fuming as he stalked out into the living room, lightsaber drawn and ignited – ready to tear down the walls as he had done the last time she'd left him.
He was just about to start swinging when the harsh, burning red glare of his blade cast itself on the dark space beneath the wide viewscreen – illuminating a huddled mass of covers; dark linens which belonged on his bed, that rose and fell slightly in a steady rhythm. He quickly extinguished the saber and, in the dead silence he could hear the sound he had previously ignored – the deep sound of her breathing where she lay, curled up, on the ebony hued divan.
She was still there.
Rey was still there.
He breathed a sigh of relief, slightly embarrassed at his outburst and intensely grateful that she had not woken to see him, for the first time in seven days, holding his wildly burning lightsaber just a few feet from her. Carefully and quietly, he padded across the floor towards her, so he could gaze upon her features – to ensure she was truly there.
She was curled up tightly, he could tell, under the covers; legs pressed to her chest, her face half obscured by the chestnut locks that flowed past her shoulders. He loved seeing her hair down and free, how softly it lay against her tanned skin. But, from what he could see, her once bright skin was dull and sallow. The half of her face that was exposed looked thinner than it had when he'd left, a deep purple half moon marring the space beneath her eye – he knew it wasn't a bruise, they'd been almost healed when he left. No, something else caused this, there was another reason she looked so sickly.
His eyes fell then, on the discarded tray of food – shoved to the furthest side of the room's small table. It was untouched, the food now cold, undisturbed, everything in it's place. It didn't take him long to figure out that she wasn't eating – but he didn't know why. Perhaps she'd been looking for a way out, surely there were other ways? But he couldn't think of another reason that she'd throw away her health, another reason she would starve herself. He only knew that, from now on, she would eat, even if he had to force the food down her throat himself. Kylo couldn't stand the sight of Rey – so strong and unbreakable, now wilted, and weak. Kylo wouldn't wake her now though – he'd let her sleep. He needed sleep; utterly exhausted, he might have been in a dream state for the past week, but he hadn't actually gotten any rest.
Despite it's being devoid of covers, Kylo dropped straight onto his bed, still fully dressed – sur-coat, gloves, boots – even the cowl, now loose around his shoulders. His breath deepened, and his dark eyes closed as he fell asleep almost the second he hit the mattress – so drained that his mind fell quickly into a black oblivion, affording him a rare, dreamless, and peaceful sleep.