When Kylo does return, you can physically feel him when he has arrived back on the Star Destroyer about a week after your short leave of absence.
Even still, the once missing knight does not come see you; doesn't even try to come find you. Instead, your pregnancy hormones kick in and your blood begins to boil in your veins. The fucker.
Once your shift ends, you immediately go to his quarters, the heels of your boots clicking away rapidly as you advance down the hall. When you arrive at the familiar set of doors, you don't even bother to knock (you haven't been doing so for a long while, either way) and type in the code—his private code—into the door pad and enter.
He isn't there and yet, you wait anyway. You've been so patient for so long. You know you can wait just a little longer. So, you simply go to his bed and sit at the foot of it.
About an hour passes before you hear the door opening with a hiss and he is walking in, not striding, like he normally does. His footsteps are still heavy but slow, as if he's tired.
He stands there quietly for a moment in the front living quarters and you know that he can feel you, if he hadn't already seen you sitting on the bed through the open door.
His shoulders heave with a heavy sigh and then he finally—finally—looks at you.
"You're back?" You ask softly.
He remains still for a moment before he nods slowly.
"You already know..." Your voice is just barely a whisper as you speak. "That's why you left." It's not a question that he is to answer. He is quiet and doesn't give you any sort of verbal or physical response, save for the slight bowing of his head. "Do you... want me to have... it?" You ask quietly, tearing your gaze away from his so that you can look at your hands. Slowly, you rise to your feet and take a few steps closer to him, your eyes down, "It's still... early enough. I can go to the medbay and have it—"
You don't even have to finish your sentence.
A hissing noise fills the air and when you look up, you watch as the man removes the helmet.
Nothing about him has changed since he has been gone; the scar upon his face has perhaps faded a little more, there might be the smallest hint of a dusting of stubble along his jaw. The only thing that's really different is that his eyes... He looks so tired. Just like you had felt days ago.
So, he has been getting about as much sleep as you have been.
"Supreme Leader said... it would be a waste." He remains where he is standing and slowly turns the helmet over in his gloved hands so that he can look at it, his eyes still unable to meet yours. "He said that when it's old enough, he would take the child as an apprentice. He said that it was a fortunate—" He takes a moment to find the right word, "—accident."
You wince slightly, "But... what about you?" You ask, voice so soft. Your eyes begin to burn slightly once more, traitorous tears threatening to spill down your cheeks once again. "What is it that you want, Kylo?"
He freezes in place where he is and his dark eyes eventually flicker up to stare blankly at the wall, the inky depths distant with thought.
You don't need the Force to know what he is thinking; he's killed people, tortured them. You don't know much about his past before he joined the Order but you do know that he always tenses up when you speak about your own family.
You tried asking him about his own once, when you both happened to be lying on his soft black sheets, bodies flushed, and hair damp with sweat. Your limbs had still been tangled together and you were both breathing heavily after Kylo had pulled you into his rooms and had jumped you, nearly pounding you into his mattress.
It had been one of the first few times that the two of you had had sex so you knew very little about each other. The silence between the two of you had been so thick and uncomfortable that it really just... slipped out.
He had immediately sat up and despite only having been together a few times, you could tell he was tense. Nude as he was, he had slipped from his own bed and headed to his closet. Simply staring into the depths of the dark doorway, he had told you to shower and then to immediately leave his quarters when you were finished.
He evidently couldn't get enough of you, however. It wasn't long before he was, once again, wordlessly tugging you into his quarters to repeat what he had just done the week prior.
You knew better than to ask after that.
Now, that same knight is standing just across the doorway in the other room, six months after the incident. His leather clad thumbs are brushing absentmindedly over the silver plating, his dark eyes staring down at his own reflection. He doesn't say anything for a long moment before he was taking a few steps forward so that he could place his helmet down on the black dining room table. Silently, he pulls his gloves off and sets them on a table next to the helm.
He then turns towards you but he keeps his eyes down. He moves, his steps slow, as he comes towards you. Kylo stops just a few scant feet away; you had forgotten how tall he was, how much he towers over you. You tilted your head back and try to meet his gaze but his eyes are still low and hooded, unwilling to even look you in the face.
Wordlessly, he raises his hands and gently grips the sides of your shoulders to pull you closer so that he can press your body to his own. Still, he is silent as he nuzzles his nose into your hair and just stays there, breathing you in for a moment. He releases a shuddering breath, one that you felt ghost over the shell of your ear, "It doesn't matter."
Your lift your own hands to fist half-heartedly in the thick fabric of his surcoat, holding onto him just as much as he was holding onto you. Turning your head slightly, you rest your cheek against his shoulder.
Yes... Yes, it does, Kylo.
The first trimester, although it's only weeks, feels like eons to you. At about five weeks into this disaster, you begin to frequent the 'fresher every night, hands braced on either side of the porcelain bowl, the cold, marbled floor extremely familiar as it digs into your knees. For some reason, you always get sick during the night—it isn't very often you have actual morning sickness. You reason that, perhaps, your biological clock was once more malfunctioning. Again, human bodies sometimes became imbalanced in space so you aren't too worried.
Either way, your nights are often times long and spent entirely alone, the buzzing of the florescent lights overhead and your nauseous stomach your only company. However, one night, it was particularly bad.
You somehow wake from a dead sleep and scramble out of bed, in the process, wildly flinging the covers back onto Kylo's sleeping form on the other side of the bed. There had once been a time where he slept with his strong arms locked tightly around you. He had done it the first night he'd been back and hadn't tried to do so since then.
Scrambling to the bathroom, you barely make it to the toilet, your fingers white as you grip the rim. You remain in the same position for who knows how long, body shaking and skin clammy. Eventually, though, you hear the quiet slap of footsteps upon the hard floor and peak up at your observer through the curtain of your loose hair.
He holds your gaze for a moment before he sighs and looks elsewhere around the small room. Then, wordlessly, he steps forward, easily crossing the space in a few strides. Surprisingly gentle fingers brush through your hair and pull the sweat-dampened locks from your face, the coolness in the room a relief. There is a tightening at the base of your neck and you realize that when your hair doesn't fall back into your face, it's been secured by a hair tie by large but, no doubt, deft hands.
One of those warm mits then rests upon your back, his touch seeming to bleed through the soft fabric of your favorite sleep shirt.
You don't know when it happens but you somehow miraculously fall asleep at the toilet, the last thing you remember is the scalding hand on your spine as well as the iciness of the porcelain against your cheek.
You are even more confused when you wake up the next morning tucked back between the warm covers and soft pillows. The near silky material of your night shirt has also been replaced with a much heavier, larger long sleeved shirt.
When you sit up in bed, you reach for your datapad on the night stand and frown softly at the small icon on your message system. It's your overseeing superior.
Due to your unexpected, late-hour shift on the bridge, Commander Ren has excused you from work today.
Frowning softly at the message, you then look up your alarm system, only to find that your work alarm—the one you remember setting the night before—has been flipped into the 'off' position. Glancing warily at the chronometer upon the bedside table, it reads two hours after the beginning of your shift.
With little else to do while in Kylo's rooms, you sigh and set your datapad back down, only to slip back down beneath the covers and allow your eyes to close once more.
Soon enough, it's the beginning of the next monthly cycle and, after a quick search on the holonet, you plan and make a visit to the medbay for your first prenatal checkup. When you go to check in, the nurse at the front desk looks at you, entirely stunned.
"Lieutenant, you've been reassigned to the officers' wing of the medbay."
You open your mouth to protest, ready to explain that your doctor has always been in this wing, that you've been seeing him since you began working on the Finalizer about two years ago.
Instead, the man behind the desk just shakes his head and turns the monitor screen so that you may see.
"You've been reassigned a new physician." He points at the section of your file and the screen automatically highlights the appropriate section. And, sure enough, it's not your doctor.
Of course you were reassigned a new doctor. A special doctor.
"Doctor Nacimara is located in the private officers' wing at the end of the hall."
It's strange walking into the different medbay and your eyes can't help but wander a little as you make your way to the front desk. The sitting room is nearly vacant save for a man seated in the corner of the room, his uniform indicating that he's perhaps a captain in the piloting ranks. The place is also a lot nicer looking just in general, higher quality; perhaps from just the superior officer to private soldier ratio or for an entirely different reason, you aren't sure.
Either way, you're not complaining.
The secretarial personnel looks up from her work behind the desk and immediately stands from her seat, "Lieutenant L/N."
Startled slightly by her sudden movement, you pause in place and feel your brows rise, "Uh... Yeah?"
"You're scheduled to meet with Doctor Nacimara today." You nod slowly in confirmation, prompting her to continue. She almost hurriedly walks out from behind her desk and stands beside the hallway that leads back to what appears to be exam rooms. "If you'll follow me right this way..."
Soon enough, you're in one of the pristine white rooms, sitting on a rather low examination table, the paper beneath your rear crinkling with every move you make. You grimace slightly every time.
The secretary had left you a few moments prior with little more than a glance (what a weird bird) and a promise that your doctor would be in to see you.
Just as you were wondering how long you'd have to wait, the door was opening once more and a woman came striding in in a gray lab coat, her near ghostly white hair slicked back to the base of her skull. Everything about her was... very pale. Her skin, eyebrows, eyelashes... even the color of her irises were as white as snow.
"Hello, Y/N." It isn't very often that you heard your first name but nonetheless, you offer her a small smile and your hand.
"It's nice to meet you, Doctor Nacimara."
She shakes your hand and then immediately looks down at her datapad that she raises it to look at your information, "So... You're pregnant."
Holy shit, she is blunt.
The smile once upon your face turns sour in a grimace, "Ha... Yeah."
Despite the bluntness, she seems to be a very nice woman; takes your vitals and enters them into your file, explains what to look for and what will begin to occur during your pregnancy term. You even mention your 'night sickness' and she just sighs and explains what you had expected: passing nearby planetary bodies and their gravity fields are tampering with your biology. She also explains that there's really very little that you can do, perhaps eat some dairy like milk or ice cream before you eat any really stimulating food. Other than that, you just have to deal with it for the next few weeks.
She also—straight out of the blue—mentions that sex is also still a 'thing' when pregnant. "There's no risk at all to the baby if it's typical vanilla coatis that you're participating in." She explains.
For a moment, you feel your brows raise in interest but when you are about to ask why she would suddenly bring up such a subject, she stands closer to you and affectionately pats your knee.
"I just thought you might want to know." She winks at you and leaves you on the exam table, your cheeks burning hotly.
Nonetheless, you leave the officers' medbay and for fuck's sake it must be all the pregnancy hormones but you're suddenly feeling all the world horny. You hadn't thought about sex since you'd learned you were pregnant but now...
That night, Kylo is sitting on the bed, back propped against the broad headboard, datapad in hand as he reads reports the General has no doubt forwarded him. He had just showered and his hair was fluffy from when he'd just dried it; when it was at its softest. He was only wearing a pair of soft black sweats as he lounged about. And nothing else.
You yourself had just changed into your sleep wear, not bothering to change in the bathroom. No, you had dug around in his closet for your staying-the-night stash and plucked a simple t-shirt and shorts from the collection, having been entirely nude while making the decision. You'd taken your time in making your final selection, purposefully keeping yourself bent over in hopes of catching the Commander's interest.
Kylo honestly never really cared what you wore; either way, it was going to end up on the floor. Or perhaps ripped in half if he was in the right mood.
You deviously grin to yourself as you crawl across the covers towards him on your hands and knees. Once you reached him, you place a kiss on his cheek and then drag your lips up along his jaw where you lightly nip at his earlobe, "Hello."
He merely grunts in response, his eyes continuing to scroll across the reports.
"I went to the doctor today..." You purr into his ear once more, sitting down beside him so that you could reach up and run your hand along the plane of his chest. "And... guess what?" Curling your fingers, you lightly rake your nails over his peck and then lightly traced one around his nipple. You swore you felt his breathing change and smirk as you began to mouth at his neck. "We can still fuck."
Allowing your tongue to trace along his jaw, you pull back a moment to find that he is no longer looking at his datapad. Instead, his eyes are focused on the far wall of the room, the dark pools unreadable.
You allow your fingers to trail lower, your nails gently scratching against his toned stomach. You trail your index finger along the waistband of his sweats, your touch light and teasing.
It was a long moment before he sighs heavily, his breath shuttering as it escapes, "I'm not in the mood right now." His eyes flick back to the datapad, his finger resuming swiping along it.
You frown softly and pout, snuggling closer to him, you face nuzzling into his neck, "Please, Kyyyyllllllooooo." You whine, showing your ever growing need for relief of the ache between your legs.
He lightly shrugs you off with his shoulder, eyes still intent on the screen before him, "Not now."
Instead of listening, you just smile slightly, knowing that you could get him to break if you press hard enough. You snuggle in further, your hand snaking around behind him to rest on his other shoulder. You press another kiss to his cheek, this one sloppier than the last. However, when you gently grasp the opposing side of his jaw and try to turn his face towards you for a real kiss, that's when he finally snaps.
"Knock it off, Y/N." He warns you, his voice not quite a yell. Yet.
You know that his temper can sometimes be very short. After one exceptionally harsh day, he had literally came into his room and just started screaming profanities while his body shook with rage, not realizing that you were there and had been waiting for him. He'd immediately quieted once he realized that you were there. Afterwards, he'd acted a bit embarrassed, not speaking to you until after he'd disappeared into the 'fresher.
Amazingly enough, he'd quietly mumbled an apology. That night, you had held him and ran your fingers through his hair and told him that it's alright, there will always be hard days.
However, now, you simply freeze in place and gaze at him for a moment before you begin to shrink back, your limbs retreating from his person to your own self. Wordlessly, you roll over and curl onto your side, waiting for an apology that you know will never come.
You bury your face into your pillow and allow your tears to disappear into the soft black fabric. You can't entirely stop your shoulders from shaking as you struggle to keep yourself quiet, no longer caring about the man at your back.
Thanks for all the reviews last chapter, guys! If you would like to see more or have suggestions, go ahead and drop another comment!
Love,
Blue