A/N: I'm very sorry for not responding to comments on the last chapter. I was rushed (I left for Poland for a week soon after I published that chapter) but also I just was a bit overwhelmed.

I appreciate your comments more than you can know - every time I think I've had enough of this story (because compared to so many amazingly written stories, I feel like mine isn't 'good enough') someone leaves a comment and rekindles my passion for it.

I still love this story very much, though the process is painful sometimes. This chapter in and of itself was difficult to put down.

I do hope you enjoy! Thank you all for everything!

p.s. i post random things about this story on my tumblr, itsdetachable tumblr com under the tag "a little unsteady fic"

He had to get out of the room eventually. He'd stayed in most of the day, feeling Rey's presence like a ghost in the quarters, pinging his radar everytime she moved. He hadn't gone out to meet her when she came in the morning, and she'd made no move to come and find him. It seemed they both preferred to ignore each other, and that was just fine with him.

He had to go out, however. He needed to eat, and though he was loathe to leave the confines of his room, confines that had become something like comfortable (safe) to him, he couldn't ignore his body's needs. Creeping out, he headed towards the dining room in the hopes that he'd find something there, even at ten at night. Rey was nowhere nearby, he felt her presence in the front communal room, and he headed on quickly, eager to grab something and head back to his room before she caught on he'd moved.

There was nothing on the tables in the dining room, which was no surprise. Reaching out his senses, he found the kitchen area beyond the room empty, and entered it. The room was not quite large, but it was functional, and more importantly it had a conservator. The elaborate lunch he'd had the day before couldn't have been prepared here, but no doubt there was food to be found. He dug into the cabinets, then into the conservator. He had no patience to make anything, not really, but he managed to find some leftover meats, sliced cheese, and a fresh loaf of sliced bread. There were some -fruits? vegetables?- he wasn't familiar with, but which must have been edible seeing as they were in the conservator. He grabbed one, finding it light for its size, and added it to the pile of food he'd already prepared on the counter.

Movement; at first he thought it was in the room, with him, but after shooting a glance around the kitchen he realized it was not on his visual periphery, but his Force-sense periphery. He tensed, eyes shooting to the pile of food on the counter. Rey was in the corridor outside the dining room, he could feel her presence now that he'd been made aware of it. Having been distracted, he hadn't noticed when she'd left the front room. He looked around the kitchen, searching for something to put the food he'd collected on, and found an empty platter sitting near the stovetop. Pulling it to him with the Force, he began piling everything he'd gathered onto it, all the while feeling Rey nearing. She was closer, closer, nearly to the door of the kitchen - and he made himself relax, steadying his breath. He would not let her find him scrabbling around like a rodent, searching for escape. Undignified. No, with forced calm he began picking through the objects he had gathered and placing only those he actually wanted to take with him on the platter.

The door swung open, and despite himself he felt his shoulders twitch, but he managed to keep from looking at her.

"So, you really are here," Rey said in mock surprise.

"You had to come track me down to confirm it? You could've sensed me," Kylo replied, "Or haven't you been taught how, yet?"

He looked at her then, caught her eyes narrowing as she shot him a dirty look. She was dressed in shades of gray - he'd noticed that before, the gray, wondered of the meaning behind it. He was neither curious enough nor familiar enough to voice the question, however.

"Supper is served at eight," Rey snapped back, "And breakfast is at seven-thirty. You might want to remember, so you don't have to go about skulking in the darkness searching for crumbs."

Kylo felt the anger rise in him, bitter at the back of his throat and yet welcome all the same. This was familiar, this rising disdain for Rey, for another person - he wanted to act on it, almost. Wanted to fire back a response, wanted to do something, react forcefully, release some of that pent up frustration in the form of a Force push, anything - his eyes flickered back to Rey, first to gauge her - she could take it - but then… His gaze dropped towards her belt, he couldn't fight the sudden chill that descended on him.

Did she have it? He couldn't tell. The remote was small, it could be easily concealed. Maybe she was goading him, on purpose, trying to force him into action. Into doing something that would require...

The fury, the frustration, fell away, retreated like an injured animal back into the recesses of his mind. His thoughts staggered in staccato- What was he doing - he was getting food - what was he - food he was hungry - but Rey was there - what was he doing -

"What is it?" Rey asked suddenly, sounding puzzled. Kylo shot a look at her, found her eyeing him as if she wasn't quite sure what he was. As if he'd appeared suddenly out of the ether.

"What?" he asked, responsively, to her own question.

"Something… Something has changed…" Rey looked severely confused at that. Kylo didn't respond; he turned back to the food he'd gathered and set his sights on the platter again - was he projecting? If he was it was unintentional. Was she picking up on it, then? He couldn't tell. He'd been detached from the Force too long, he'd gotten rusty, he couldn't tell anymore if he was keeping his emotional state to himself or if he was casting it out around him. It hadn't mattered in prison, there was no one there to hear it, or at least make sense of it, but here… He'd have to be careful, he had to relearn that art of concealing himself once again.

Slowly, methodically, he finished loading the platter as Rey watched. He could just barely feel her reaching towards him, wisps of touches at the edges of his mind. It took little effort to cut off her probes, but the experience was unsettling all the same. The potential of it shook him. Silently, he hefted the platter and turned towards the door. Wordlessly, Rey moved aside to let him pass. He did not look at her, but he felt her presence follow him back to his room all the same.

Kylo did not go to breakfast at seven thirty. He was awake for it - he'd been awake all night - but he had been in no mood to deal with Rey. The decision to remain on D'Qar was quickly wearing him down. Why he thought he'd be able to recuperate there, to find some sort of center, he didn't know. There was silence from Coruscant, his parents had sent no word yet, and though he'd attempted to sleep he'd failed miserably. He could still leave, especially now that Luke was nowhere near - he felt confident enough that he could find a way around Rey, despite their last battle - and yet he felt chained in place, unable to make that final decision to go. And all night, the weight of the council's decision hung over him. They'd decided his fate for him once before, and he had no reason to believe they'd be any more lenient this time.

They might not even tell him, a formless non-voice in his mind whispered, Rey had the remote - they'd incapacitate him unawares, chain him up like a beast, this time making sure there was no chance of escape.

This time, they might leave him in solitary forever.

He could only find solace in the chill stream of the shower, huddled in the tub, letting the cold shock him back to reality and give him back some modicum of control over the thoughts his traitorous mind sent him.

The Council would not act so underhandedly, not now when he posed so little a threat, not when they'd made such a big deal of being just and fair, due process and all. And Rey, despite all that had happened, she would not use the remote. She would… She would not use it…

Around mid-day he left his room and stalked down the hallway. He didn't know where he was going but he needed to move, to be active, to stay ahead of the whirling in his head. He was at the front door before he realized it, opening it even as he felt Rey hurry into the front room.

"Where are you going?" She asked sharply.

"Somewhere," he snapped back, unable to stop himself had he wanted to. The room was too small, the quarters too confining, and hadn't they said he needed to stay in the compound, not just the building? He needed air.

Gravel crunched under his boots. He could feel that Rey had followed him, staying a few steps behind; her eyes bored into the back of his skull but he couldn't feel her probing him.

There was sun, outside. The glare of it made him wince - he'd kept his windows covered, his room darkened. Inside, he'd been painfully aware of how many people passed the general quarters. In his imagination, the number rose much higher. Outside, feeling all the more exposed and vulnerable, he found that imaginary number returning to him. Oh, he wouldn't turn back. He was far too stubborn for that. The eyes, however - imagined or real - were on him, and he quickened his pace anxiously. His hands had begun to shake; he told himself there was nothing to worry about, that no one was going to give him away, hand him over to the New Republic, while the discussions were in place…

Kill him, however, by some odd arrangement of circumstances? Perhaps.

There were wide streets set between buildings, large enough to allow passage of vehicles if necessary. Almost every building was the same nondescript drab grey concrete, standard sized windows in the walls and only various signs or markings near the doors to differentiate them. Far to the edges he could see the grassy hills that bordered the compound - from what he remembered from maps, the command center and medical bay were located within them, protected from enemy fire in case of attack.

"Next time tell me you want to take a walk," Rey said, pulling up alongside him.

"I'd like to take a walk, Master Rey, would you allow it?" Kylo shot back before he could catch himself, perfectly mimicking her accent.

"Oh come off it," Rey grumbled, "Do you think I want to be here?"

"I don't think you mind being here," Kylo said, "I think you'd prefer I wasn't."

"You're right," Rey responded, "I can think of a few places I'd prefer you to be. Behind bars, for one…"

Kylo shot her a glare, and she returned it. They'd reached an intersection by then. A group of people was approaching them from ahead and Kylo felt his hackles raise. His hyper awareness jumped to near max; he found himself watching the approaching group warily, noting their movements, their posture, how they walked. Some had weapons on their person but they were holstered. Other were unarmed. Kylo stiffened as they approached, watching them pass.

Some of them greeted Rey, others eyed him curiously. A couple more looked at him with knowing, distrustful looks in their eyes.

It seemed he was unrecognizable for the most part, at least to some in this group. But others?

"Don't worry, most people here won't recognize you," Rey said quietly from next to him. "Your face wasn't plastered everywhere, unlike some people, and besides you look a bit different now."

She actually sounded consoling, and that was strange. Kylo wasn't quite sure he liked it.

Slowly, he headed across the intersection and started past the next row of buildings. Rey followed him, an unloyal watchdog, but he found her presence somewhat grounding. She was something like familiar, compared to the entirely new and unknown surroundings he'd found himself in.

"Do you know where you're going?" Rey asked. Kylo didn't respond, and after a moment she questioned again, "Any idea whatsoever? Or are you just set on wandering around aimlessly."

Kylo still remained silent. He wasn't quite sure how to respond, anyways - he'd just needed to get out, away. Unconsciously he began to walk faster, stride lengthening. His mind began focusing on the Council decision again, the meeting that would determine his fate…

He needed to get his mind away from that thought. Anything would do.

"So is it just you then?" Kylo asked, "Or has Master Luke taken on other apprentices?"

"What's it to you?" Rey snapped back, "Starting to plan your next purge?"

Kylo gritted his teeth and shot her a dark look.

"You understand nothing," He growled. This may have not been the best subject for conversation, he realized. A flare of anger burst from Rey, he could practically feel the heat of it on his skin.

"Understand what?" Rey spat, "Mindless murder? You're right, I don't."

Names were surfacing in Kylo's mind, faces he hadn't thought of in years. He pushed them back into the recesses of his mind.

"You don't…" He began, then stopped, then started again, "You… it was better, that way."

"Better?" Disbelief was plain in Rey's voice. "They're dead."

"Exactly." Kylo responded. She wouldn't understand, but how could she? They would have only grown to oppose the rise of the First Order and Snoke, and they would have failed. And in that failure, what they would have experienced at the hands of the First Order - at the hands of Snoke - would have been so much worse than what he had done to them.

"It was war," He added, somewhat quieter. It was necessary and unavoidable; their deaths were predestined, he was certain of it. Prolonging the inevitable would have done nothing but given them false hope. Whatever the outcome of the war had been, their deaths were one of few certainties.

"Is that your excuse?" Disgust edged into Rey's incredulous tone; she was giving him that look again, the same one she'd had when she'd first called him a monster.

He wondered if she understood war at all. Understood the necessity of it. Understood looking at war and seeing what it would bring, not today or tomorrow but in the years ahead.

Wasn't he wise - as if he'd understood it himself then - as if he'd understood anything -

"There are no excuses, in war, there are only decisions, survival, and ultimately the cause," He said steadily, with an intensity he hadn't felt in a long time. He took a step towards her, towering over her slighter frame, "There is nothing more important than the cause."

Rey gave him a long look, looking up at him without a trace of unease in her eyes.

"Lives are more important." She said slowly, evenly.

"Lives are disposable." Kylo responded.

They stood for a long moment, facing each other and not speaking. Rey didn't seem to understand, and he couldn't understand how she couldn't understand. The impasse was profound.

"Have you had enough of the outdoors? Or is there somewhere else you'd like to slink off to?" Rey said finally, plainly uncomfortable with the situation. Kylo, reminded that he was out in the middle of the compound, felt visibility fall on him like a crosshair. Reflexively he took a step back from Rey, shot a glance around their surroundings. They hadn't gone far, not really, but he was no longer interested in being out in the open. There were people, moving about the compound. Too many things could happen, and he had limited means of defending himself.

Not that being indoors, trapped, was any better - but at least he knew the quarters, somewhat. At least they were something like familiar.

Without a word to Rey he spun around and headed back. She exhaled loudly behind him, irritation radiating. He ignored it, focused on making his way back… back… His mind started whirling with thoughts again, and helplessness rose out of them - what had been left for him, but waiting for the Council's eventual decision? What, but to stalk the general's quarters and be reminded of how little control over his own fate he had left…

His head ached, a tired ache, and sibilant voices rose in the back of his mind, reminding him - the ship was still out there, out there, waiting and ready… he could leave, he could get away… His body was beginning to feel funny at the joints, oddly fluid and jittery, his breath coming fast as he felt an odd sort of weightlessness - he could get out, now, before anyone could stop him, before Rey could stop him….

His head felt heavy and light at once, a metallic center buoyed on clouds; the Council's decision, why should it ruin his life again? And what if they wanted him back, in prison, chained up? What if? He shuddered to a stop, jerked to face towards where the ship had been left. Had they moved it? Maybe, maybe not. Maybe, maybe not…

Why should he wait for eventual destruction… why not go, go go go go - his thoughts refused to slow, but he couldn't care because it made sense. It made such glorious sense - he should leave, now, just as he'd thought. Stop convincing himself that he'd find any rest here, and head out to find a place to hide for a bit… A place where the Council could not reach him, where even Luke wouldn't be able to chase him down… Why had he listened to Han? When had anything good ever come of listening to his father?

"Don't you dare." Rey's voice was low and steady.

Kylo glanced at her from the corner of his eye, saw her watching him warily. She didn't have her staff but one hand hovered near her belt. His eyes flickered back towards the direction of the ship, then back at her, back at the ship, back… He met her eyes. There was a grim resolve there - she'd bested him before, hadn't she? Her hand still held at ready near her belt, and slowly his resolve faltered, wilted under the realization that he really did not have a choice in the matter.

She had the remote on her. Of course she did; he would've done the same in her place. Better hard certainty than ambiguity and surprise.

He wavered only a moment longer, freedom and escape tantalizing and so near, but whatever frenzied energy he'd just had was gone, smothered by reality. There was no way of escape, not then. Maybe not ever. The weight of that realization descended on him much too heavily, he felt leaden and senseless. Slowly he turned towards the general's quarters again. His hands shook but he no longer felt like trying to stop them, and his body followed in short time, tiny shudders across his shoulders and back. In quiet resignation, he pulled his eyes away from the far off horizon and headed towards inevitability.

Han and Leia, and Luke, returned shortly before nightfall. Rey came to get Kylo not long after they entered the front door; Rey, not his father or mother, and that sent a cold chill through him. The air hung heavy around him as he followed Rey to the front room, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was waiting for him outside the building's walls. He hadn't really stopped shaking since he'd returned from the walk, and it only intensified when he saw them gathered in the front room.

Leia smiled, gently. Han sat on the couch next to her, silent. Luke stood near a window, looking out into the growing darkness.

Kylo gripped the sleeves of his shirt with trembling fingers and forced himself to remain calm.

"Ben, sit down," Leia said said, motioning to an armchair near the couch.

"I'd rather not." Kylo said, eyes flickering between the figures in the room. The tension was thick in the air, he could taste it, metallic on his tongue. "What was the decision?"

Luke turned from the window then, glanced at him a moment, then towards Leia and Han. The three exchanged looks, but didn't respond right away. Kylo shifted impatiently; a dull thud was sounding in his ears. He needed to know. He needed them to speak. His eyes shifted to Luke again, back to his parents, flickered to Rey where she had settled leaning back against a decorative table. Did she know? Who would tell him? The wait was becoming far too much, the dread of it was becoming overwhelming. He needed them to say it, whatever it was - he was ready to force it out of them if he had to. Pull the words from them, hold them down and pull the words from their minds if he had to-

He shuddered, almost unable to keep himself from doing just that. Luke noticed - Luke seemed to notice everything now - his gaze sharpening somewhat as he watched Kylo silently.

"Well, good news," Han spoke finally, the false cheerfulness of his tone blatant, discordant with the dark feelings emanating from him. "You get to stay here."

"...on what condition?" There had to be something, the taste on his tongue was blood, and it was rich, and it was his imagination but it was also the rise of tension in the room.

"They want a full report on what happened during and after the escape," Leia said, looking at him an odd shadow in her eyes, "Including any information you have on the whereabouts of Hux."

That wasn't a problem, Kylo could easily modify the story, keep them from discovering where Hux had gone. He couldn't see, however, how the information would be enough to gain his freedom, or at the very least gain him respite from a prison sentence the right and just New Republic should be forcing him to carry out to its bitter end.

"That's not it," He said, his voice shakier than he would have preferred it to be. "What is it?"

Han's eyes had grown darkened again, he stood up and took a few steps from the couch, aimless, lost. Leia's eyes remained on Kylo, but she said nothing, her gaze calculating yet concerned at the same time. Luke remained silent, watching them all.

Maybe it was a stray thought that caught against the edge of his awareness, maybe the silence itself brought his fears to the forefront of his mind, maybe both - but suddenly he knew with dread certainty that his initial feeling was right. Something waited for him, outside the walls of the building.

"Say it," He said, vehemence tainting his voice, making it too loud for the silence in the room. He felt Rey shift her stance, her eyes trained on him, but he remained fixated on Leia, on Han, on his parents, daring - begging - them to speak.

"There was one major condition to allow you to stay here, and not be taken back into the prison," Luke was the one to speak, his voice even and controlled. His eyes met Kylo's, and the certainty grew darker, and Kylo knew -

"No," Kylo said, and then more forcefully, "No!"

"It was the only way they'd agree to it, Ben," Leia said, standing from the couch. "We fought against it, believe me."

He'd believe no one, ever again. Belief in people had gotten him nowhere -

"No, not again," Kylo said, but his gaze was on Luke now, he felt feverish, "Not again. I won't… I won't allow it…"

"What is it?" Rey asked suddenly, her voice quiet but perplexed.

"The Council has ordered that he be fitted with the Force-reactive manacles again," Luke responded just as quietly, tonelessly, "In order to ensure the safety of those around him."

Kylo jerked at the mention of the manacles, unable to contain the reaction. He felt Leia's concern bubbling up in his senses. She moved towards him, but he backed away. The manacles - again, he'd be cut off from the Force, cut off from using even the smallest part of it, no longer able to feel the world around him, no longer connected - detached, adrift, alone -

Luke stepped towards him, and though Kylo backed away from him as well Luke wouldn't let him go, grabbing hold of his arm and holding him tightly. His hand was warm, but Kylo could not find the physical contact anything other than foreboding and painful.

"There is little choice in the matter," Luke said, stepping closer as he held Kylo firmly. "You either stay here, or return to prison, but either way the Council requires the same thing."

"No choice, rather," Kylo breathed.

"The… procedure can be done in the morning," Luke said, lightening his hold somewhat. His eyes almost seemed to soften, as if he was finding something like sympathy inside him. Kylo despised that look.

"Why wait?" Kylo said with a sneer, finally finding the strength to pull his arm out of Luke's hold. "What with everyone's safety at stake…"

"Very well then," Luke said, his eyes gone expressionless again.

They brought the machine to the general's quarters, as Kylo refused to leave its confines. The thought of anyone else being witness to such an act of degradation disgusted him. He would've preferred that Rey left as well, oh he would have preferred that it didn't happen at all, but she remained, as did his parents - and Luke.

"Don't make me hold you this time," Luke said quietly, standing next to him as the technicians went about calibrating the machine.

"You think me so weak," Kylo hissed, "I know what to expect."

Knowing did little to quench the rapidly rising fear in him - if anything, it made it worse, because while the actual procedure was little to worry about, he knew what came after. The knowledge was worse now; the first time he'd been frightened by the prospect, but it was a shallow fear, a fear of the unknown. They hadn't explained anything to him, nothing of the process or the outcome, but forced him to the machine like an animal forced to the slaughter. The fear now, it was different, deeper and much more real. He knew what came after, and the thought of it made the hysterical thought of escape all the more tantalizing.

They'd seated him on the armchair finally, and brought the machine over to him. It's bulk, it's bright contours, all of it was stark and real and menacing. The openings at its front were dark, round chasms, and as he inserted his hands inside they seemed to stretch on forever. The machine vibrated slightly as it detected the presence of his arms. The technicians tapped away at the control pad - he ignored them then as he had when they walked in. They were nothing more than a part of the machine, as cold and callous as it was.

The first touch of the machine was gentle, like a puff of air on his skin, but he jerked anyways. Struggling to control his breathing and the pounding of his heart, ignoring the thudding in his ears, he forced himself to keep his arms steady within the machine. The vibrations within gained in intensity, a near-silent hum rose as he felt a multitude of tiny arms within the machine begin roving over his skin. Their gentle touches were soon replaced by pinpricks, then the horrible cold of new metal as it was grafted over and around his wrists. Buzzing, the flicker of lasers welding the pieces together, the clatter of machine parts connecting wires and sensors and chips, all of it brought the rise of fear in his mind. The last time was worse, and he was in control of himself this time, but still it was a struggle to keep himself from tearing his arms out of the machine, pushing it away, Forcing everyone away from himself -

The remote, really, was the only thing keeping him from acting. And on thought of it, the weight of his head grew, as if the implant had grown as well, heavy and leaden, as if it were something he could actually physically feel within him, alien and unwelcome.

The implant, the manacles - connected again, barring him from the Force again…

The machine whirred, the hum growing lighter, until finally the lights flickered out and it stood silent once more, its task done. The whole procedure had passed much quicker than he'd remembered, but still he felt the ache in his joints, the strain in his muscles that came from forcing himself to keep them still within the machine's confines. It had all passed quickly and yet it felt like ages, and now - The technicians motioned to him that he could remove his arms, and he did so. They may have said something, but he couldn't hear it over the buzzing in his ears. On his wrists the new manacles sat heavily, a pale steel like the originals but slightly more streamlined. Cool and gray, low profiled but long, they stretched from the base of his hand a good six inches up his arms. He twisted his arms experimentally, felt the cool metal slide against the scars there. He could hear the technicians now that he'd calmed somewhat, saying something about modifying the manacles in time, if the scar tissue receded. Use the machine again...

Kylo put that thought aside. He remained silent, staring down at his arms and feeling a great sense of emptiness fall upon him. The Force was there, within his reach, if he could stretch a little he could grab hold of it - and the fear resurfaced, rising from the back of his mind and clouding the connection, clouding thoughts of the Force, clouding everything. There would be no Force, he thought. There would be no connection. And his mind was empty.

He raised his head, looked at his parents, at Luke, eyes straying even to Rey. Maybe he was searching for something but he couldn't piece together what it was at the moment. Maybe he just wanted to hear something other than the thudding of his blood in his ears and that terrible emptiness in his mind.

But they all remained silent.