Chapter 3

Ow.

I smelt the burn on my calf before I felt it. The mix of singed flesh and charred athletic wear was enough to make me cringe, thus putting me off even more and allowing her to kick me square in the chest, throwing me onto my back. The tip of Rey's blue sabre was now just under my chin, the heat radiating off of it and threatening to scorch my face.

"I win," she panted, sweat dripping off her face. I just glared up at her, panting through my gritted teeth.

"Fine," I spat. She turned off her sabre, and I was grateful I could actually sit up and look at my new wound. It bothered me to no end that she had now managed to give me yet another one. How pathetic was I? Repeatedly unable to defend myself against this girl.

She walked through the shield, back to her water canteen and set down her sabre. She was focused on hydrating so I decided to take the minute to check on my left calf. I sat up, being careful not to move my leg, and immediately I saw the long, diagonal line that was snaking around my muscle. The fabric of my trousers curled away from it, singed and thick. The wound was relatively shallow, red and not as bed as other burns I'd gotten in the past (I actively tried not to think about the pain the burns on my face inflicted, the ones she had given me).

"Oh, shit," Rey called from across the room. She moved to stand from where she had been sitting, leaning her back on the wall.

"What?" I called back, confused.

"I-your leg," she said, gesturing with her arm in an animated fashion I hadn't seen her use before. I furrowed by brow.

"Yes," I enunciated. "You hit me when you decided to go into Form VI even though you are inadequate in that Form." I chided her, and gestured back to my leg. "Obviously." She crossed her arms and tilted her head at me in annoyance.

"Actually, I think my hitting you shows I know exactly what I'm doing," she refuted. "Your inability to block it shows your inadequacy in the Form." She nodded her chin at my leg. "Obviously."

I turned my attention away from her with a huff, focusing on the burn. I was prodding with my fingertips around the effected area when I stupidly, accidentally slid my blunt nail right across the welt.

"Ah," I inhaled sharply as the area seemed to pulse with anger at my touching it. I beginning to push myself up to stand when I felt two strong hands pushing me back down.

"What are you doing?" I asked, immediately shaking her off. Rey was standing above me, looking determined. I was leaning back, away from her, but she just kneeled down beside me, next to the wounded leg.

"Seriously, what are you doing?" I asked, moving to grab my sabre at my belt. her eyes flicked to that hand, and then to my eyes, with a questioning look in them. I could feel her asking me something, and without really thinking about it, I nodded. What was I doing? I berated myself. She could kill you right now, you know.

I was still leaning back when Rey turned her attention to my leg. She seemed to check it out for a moment, and then she placed one hand on top of it.

"Hey!" My entire body cringed away from her, from the pain. But her hand stayed on top of the welt, her arm having to extend to follow my movement and her eyes were closed.

"Shh," she shushed me. "Be quiet, I need to focus." She told me softly, quietly. I opened my mouth to question her, began to cput my hands further behind me to pull away, but then I felt it-the feeling I had on Kef Bir. At first it was uncomfortable, itchy and slightly irritating as the cells formed rapidly and moved themselves accordingly. But then it was over almost as quickly as it had started, and I felt nothing, as if the welt had never been there.

Rey was breathing more deeply now, and I could feel her exhaustion at using more of her own life Force-and so quickly after her work on Kef Bir!-but she opened her eyes and removed her hand, revealing a completely healed calf, as if she had never burned me at all. She sat back on her heels, now blinking rapidly as if she was trying to shrug off the fatigue. I poked at my leg where the wound had been, and it was good as new. I looked up at her.

She met my eyes finally, but even looking into her grey eyes I could tell she was tired from the ordeal. I guess my expression was betraying me, because she answered my question before I could even speak it.

"I'm sorry, Ben," she whispered, seeming genuinely remorseful. I wanted to tell her to drop the apology, she was probably glad to have maimed me and now only healed me so I couldn't make her life on this ship any more hellish than it already was. I couldn't get those words out yet, though, because I immediately scowled at her choice of epithet. She had called me Ben.

"What did you just call me?" I demanded, waiting for her to apologize for the proper reason now. How dare she? Ben Solo was dead, he had been for years. I was Kylo Ren now, and she would not disrespect that so blatantly.

"I-I called you Ben," she answered, not understanding my anger. I stood up swiftly, and she began to get out of her crouch so the top of her head reached my sternum, a couple feet between us now.

"Ben is dead," I told her, harshly. I didn't care if she had just healed me, she couldn't just think this transgression was okay. "You are to call me Kylo Ren," I ordered. She was now scowling at me, and we glared at each other equally.

"Huh," she scoffed. "Let me guess, I suppose you'd really want me to call you Supreme Leader?" Sarcasm was dripping from her words, but there was a steely anger beneath them. I could feel the energy between us begin to simmer.

"You are not to disrespect me on my own ship," I informed her. "Let me remind you, I could end our little arrangement here and make your life agonizing, just like that." I snapped my fingers once, but she didn't stand down.

"I called you Ben because that's who you are," she retorted. "Not whatever this pretence is," she used her arms to gesture at me vaguely.

"I'm not Ben, I am Kylo Ren, of the Knights of Ren, and you will address me as such, prisoner," I could feel my hands curl into fists. "Or else."

"Maybe I should've left you with that scar," she nodded down to my now-healed leg. "It could have served as a reminder of how badly I want you dead."

"Then why didn't you leave me for such a fate on Kef Bir?" I sneered.

"Because unlike you," she snapped. "I respect your parents and couldn't do that to them. I felt Leia's grief at me defeating you, and I couldn't bear it." I could have smote her where she stood.

"How weak of you," I pointed out. "To care so much about the approval of a dead woman. Tell me, do you think she'd approve of this? Of you beginning to fulfil your duty to the Palpatine lineage?" I was speaking coolly now, not allowing her to see my emotions underneath. I kept my face blank now, and ensured my true thoughts were locked away safe where she could not reach them.

"I think we both know that's not what I'm doing," she huffed. I pulled the corners of my mouth down in a mock frown.

"I think I know you're afraid and emotional-exactly what you need to be to succumb to the Sith," I wasn't lying. In the state she was in right now, vulnerable and tired from using her life Force, persuading her was going to become much easier soon if we continued this conversation.

"That's not going to happen," she assured me. I tilted my head up slightly now.

"We'll see about that," I promised. "In the mean time, enjoy being prey to your weakness by healing your enemy and disgracing your dead friends and family." I watched a flicker of pain cross her features until it vanished back into a glare, and strode towards the door on the other side of the room.

I opened the door and stood, looking back at her and commanding her forward. "Let's go," I ordered. "I have no time for such pettiness. And I'm sure you'll need plenty of rest from so much exertion." I said the words with such sarcasm that I could feel her simmering behind me as I walked her back to her chamber, where she silently stomped into the room and left me in the hallway.

I hated him. Screw my past plans of trying to become acquaintances; I hated him, and I was going to do something about it.

The way he spoke about Lady Organa made me want to throttle him, and the mention of all the people I loved who were now dead because of him made me curl my nails into my palms, leaving tiny red crescent moons in their wake.

I healed him because something within me panged when I saw his pain. Knowing I had been the cause, it was the least I could do. I thought it could be something to prove to him I could be trustworthy, that I was willing to work in favor of the dyad. But no-I called him Ben and he snapped. I didn't care-I was not going to call him by any other name, so he could go ahead and abandon our compromise, and take me to be tortured. I would not disrespect his parents by refusing his true identity. They deserved at least that.

When I got back to my chamber, I showered quickly, still feeling so angry, and collapsed onto my bed in frustration. I wished I could cry, but I already felt so drained from the day, physically and mentally.

I passed the hours before dinner by meditating, trying to connect with Luke or Leia, or maybe even Finn, since I had been beginning to sense he was Force-sensitive back on Pasaana. However, I didn't really feel anything. It was most likely because my negative feelings were still coursing through me, throwing off the balance within me. In moments like this, I began to fear I was succumbing to the Dark Side, just as Ben had foretold-but then I assured myself that was not going to happen, that surrendering to the fear was exactly what I did not need to do.

Thankfully, Ben didn't show up for dinner like he had been for the past couple of evenings. It was weird dining with him, and we often just sat in uncomfortable silence, occasionally sharing some piece of trivial personal information before shutting back up. Even before today and sufficiently pissing him off, I was not making too much progress in my plan. I had no idea how to approach him about anything serious without us both at each others necks. I felt a little better about abandoning the plan since it wasn't working anyways.

So, I thought. I need a new plan. My mind filed through some possibilities, all of which realistically ended with my demise. Maybe that's the course this was meant to take, I eventually started to conclude. Maybe I wasn't supposed to survive this war. Maybe, in the event of my death at the Order's hands, the Resistance would have a surge of vengeance big enough to overcome the Order. That was wishful thinking, however-first, I wasn't that important to this movement, and second, the Resistance was still weak. I was starting to doubt we'd be able to succeed at all...

I shook my head, clearing away those thoughts. I could not lose hope now.

After dinner, I lay in bed awake, still going over some draft plans. One had some potential, but I couldn't confirm it'd even come to fruition, let alone allow all involved parties to survive.

If Finn was Force-sensitive-and I was fairly certain he was-I could keep trying to connect with him, try to send him some sort of message of warning. He could attempt a rescue mission, most likely brining along at least Poe and Chewbacca, if not more. I'm sure I could escape out of this cell if I really put my mind to it. They could get me out of here.

It was too optimistic of a plan. I couldn't be so naïve. There was no way they'd make it on to the ship unnoticed-they'd be recognized and killed on sight. Then, once they realized I had probably summoned them here, my fate would be coming all too soon. Or even if somehow we did manage to escape, there was certainly no way we'd all leave alive. Someone would die, and it would be my fault. I couldn't keep letting my friends die, all because of my own stupidity.

I had to try something, though. If my plan with Ben wasn't going to work, I needed to hatch another one. Unfortunately, this one was the only that seemed to have a fighting chance of succeeding at all.

I drifted off into a fitful sleep, originally thinking about my different game plans, until my dreams morphed into something much more sinister.

This wasn't one of the typical recurring dreams I had, but it shared similar features. First, I was watching as my parents were murdered on Jakku, then I was in my grandfather's robe, torturing Finn and Poe, I was watching as BB-8, C3P0 and R2-D2 were shattered. The Resistance bases across the galaxy were destroyed by armies I led, murdering thousands, setting entire planets on fire.

But then, the dream shifted. Suddenly, I was on some dark planet, illuminated occasionally by lightning strikes above. It looked ancient, with ornate stone statues and hooded figures huddled around, some watching me, others working on devices I didn't recognize.

I looked up to see my grandfather in some sort of throne, being kept alive by tubes and wires. He looked ghastly, with paper thin skin and egg-yolk yellow eyes. His rotting teeth bared at me in a grin. He lifted one of his bony hands to point behind me. I turned slowly, and there was Ben. He looked physically okay, but I could feel his anxiety rippling off of him in waves. He lifted his hands to me tentatively, like I was a predator he was pleading not to attack. Our eyes met as suddenly he was being shocked by vines of white-hot lightning. He writhed until he fell to the ground, where he continued to seize, his eyes bloodshot and looking up at me, begging for me to help him.

I tried to yell my protest, tried to move toward him, but I was not in control. I could only turn my head back to Palpatine, where he sat with his hands laying on the arm rests of his throne. No lightning was coming from him, and yet when my head whipped back around, Ben was still choking on the ground, flopping like a fish out of water.

I looked down, and saw the lightning was coming from my own hands. I felt the muscles in my face pull back into a grin.

I woke up screaming.

She had appeared when she was still asleep, tossing and turning and mumbling.

"No," she had muttered at some point. "Please, no," she begged quietly.

I had ignored her as best I could, occupying myself with some old manuals on fixing some vintage ships, until she startled me with a blood-curdling scream. She threw herself up into a sitting position, scrambling backward until she was as curled into the headboard of her bed as she could be. She began to pant violently, and then broke into sobs that I was convinced were probably hurting her lungs.

I hadn't been able to peer into her dreams, and she did not notice I was here. She put her face in her hands, settling her elbows on her knees.

Although my deep-seated dislike for her had been bothering me all day-I had to return to the training chambers to work out some of my anger-I felt a bizarre sensation. Watching her made me uncomfortable, like I wanted it to stop but not out of annoyance. It was more like I wanted her to feel my presence and calm down. I knew this feeling from childhood-I was feeling sorrow for her. How? Why? She had proved even today that she was a threat to my position of power, that she was a leech who would stop at nothing to try to make me weak. I detested her and whatever connection she thought she had to my dead family.

My family? I couldn't think of the last time I thought about any of them that way, I had renounced them over a decade ago. Something about our terse conversation today had made me contemplate them, for longer than I had in a long time. It dredged up old feelings of anger and remorse and guilt. What the hell was happening to me? Why was I feeling?

Rey's sobs were winding down now as I pulled myself from my introspection, and I had a strange urge to reach my hand out to her. Instead, I just stared at her dumbly.

Rey's head whipped up as she continued sniffling. Her face was a splotchy red, her eyelashes in tear-covered clumps. She looked so, heart wrenchingly sad that I felt my mouth open as if I was going to offer some words of sympathy.

"Why are you here?" She asked, her voice strained. I realized I was just sitting up in my bed, watching her. I remembered how it felt whenever she would intrude on my slumber, and it was certainly irksome. Neither of us had seen the other in such an intense emotional state, except for maybe when I saw her reaction when I killed my father, or when she thought she had killed Chewie.

"I didn't mean to show up," I admitted. She just rolled her eyes weakly.

"Whatever," she muttered. "Just please try to leave." Although we both knew it didn't work like that, she sounded sincere. She looked away to pick at a thread on her sleeping trousers. It was silent for a beat before I reminded myself of why she was here in the first place: I needed to try to have some sort of semblance of a diplomatic relationship with her. Offering this olive branch may be a step in the right direction, especially after all that had conspired today.

"What were you dreaming about?" I cleared my throat.

"Huh," she scoffed. "Like you'd care." I wasn't expecting her to be nice to me, so I remained patient.

"Well, if you're emotional state called me here, it's obviously important to the connection," I admitted. She seemed to chew on this for a second.

"It was like my usual dreams," she started. "You've seen them before." I had-we both remembered her recurring nightmares, the flashes of red and blue, the black robes descending on her friends, her pale face fit with yellow eyes, a ship leaving her on Jakku.

"Was that all?" I asked. She looked at me and rolled her eyes dramatically.

"Wouldn't that be enough?"

"You just haven't reacted so strongly to them before, at least the ones I've witnessed," it was true-if that was all, I didn't understand what was making her feel so emotional now. Maybe it was because she wasn't on her base, with no one to comfort her here.

"It was a little different..." she said quietly, averting my gaze again. Suddenly, I was able to see snapshots of the nightmare as she recalled it, and I saw what set this dream apart from the others. At the end, she had been torturing me. I figured this would give her cause for celebration, to be able to wield such power over me, even in a dream.

The images stopped as Rey bowed her head in what I felt was embarrassment.

"Well," I quipped. "Doesn't look like it was completely a nightmare." She glared up at me now.

"Yes, it was," she retorted.

"I suppose wielding your grandfather's powers is upsetting to you," I offered. No matter against whom she was wielding it.

"That's not the only upsetting part," she sighed. "I know I don't like you, Ben, but that doesn't mean I would want to do that to you," She wasn't looking at me now. My teeth ground together at her use of my old name, but I tried to remind myself that right now, in her vulnerable state, I had a real shot at being able to lure her into my influence a bit more.

"I know," I agreed. "You do detest hurting others." She shook her head slightly.

"That's not the point, Ben," she was exasperated now. She was so exhausted, I felt like I was starting to get tired. "I don't know why-I can't explain it-but I just..." she sighed, and pinched her eyes closed. "I can't stand to hurt you."

I absorbed that information, trying to dissect it, what she was getting at, until suddenly I felt the energy between us shift. Like something was being put in place. I couldn't detect why, or for what purpose it did so, but I could better understand what she meant when she said she couldn't hurt me.

For the last four days of training with her, hadn't I been purposefully ensuring I didn't hurt her? Hadn't I made sure my sabre never grazed her skin, probing her mind to ensure her countermoves would not mess with my intentions? I was training with her, yes, but I was definitely taking it easy on her. At least, more than I should be if I hated her as much as the whisper in my head told me I did. I suddenly understood that there was a reason I had never been able to bring myself to finish her in our past meetings, why I wanted so badly for her to join me in the Dark. For the briefest moment, it felt like the burden I held on my shoulders was lifted ever so slightly, just shifted, like I had the tiniest space to relax the muscles in my shoulders, like Atlas could finally shrug. None of it was making sense, but in that brief moment, I couldn't stop myself when I spoke.

"I feel it, too,"

How could he feel what I was feeling?

He had tried to kill me before I even understood my role in this war, and countless times after that. Even today, when I healed him, he tore through my kindness and took the opportunity to chastise me and assure me that this man was not changing in his opinion on me: I was a stupid Jedi who was as weak as his family had been. I was still angry at him, for cursing me one moment and then trying to bond with me the next.

"I doubt that," I scoffed in a voice barely above a whisper. He was still staring at me, and there was something in his black eyes I hadn't seen before; was it sympathy? Wow, he was a better actor than I thought.

"Rey, feel the energy between us-you know I'm not lying," he was speaking softly, entreating me. I hesitantly did as he asked, and my tired mind expanded enough to brush the energy around him. Once I could feel his intentions, I snapped it back. He wasn't lying.

What was going on?

"See?" He asked, puffing out breath like he had been holding it for too long. I shook my head. I was too damned tired for this.

"Yes, I do," I snapped. "But you still hate me, so I guess you'll find someone else to do your bidding my killing me eventually." I was convinced at this; after all, didn't the Supreme Leader before me probably want to keep his hands clean of the matter? Maybe that'd gain him some respect from those who still revered the Jedi-that he could never bring himself to murdering one.

He furrowed his brow and looked me up and down, incredulously.

"Obviously, you must be too tired and weak to tell what I'm actually feeling," he chided. "I can't hurt you, Rey-and I can't allow others to, either."

"It's probably just a dyad thing," I assured him. He frowned.

"I don't know," he was speaking nonchalantly now, like we were talking about any ole trivial topic of no importance, and not our own mortality that rested in the other's hands.

"Well, all I know is that we may not be able to really hurt each other, at least physically," I was thinking back to the words he had said today, that had seared into my brain. "But you still hate me, so we're making no progress as a dyad. And if you won't do away with me, or have anyone else do it, then I don't know how we go from here." It was true, and if he couldn't stand being around me when I refused to succumb to his plans for me in the Dark Side, he obviously would want me gone somehow. And it's not like I was planning on doing it myself, of course.

I was lost in this thought when suddenly, without warning, his hand was on mine, which rested on my knee. My eyes snapped up to meet his.

"I don't hate you, Rey." He spoke softly, but firmly, with conviction. All I could was stare into his eyes, blank as they were, but understanding. Like he really was meaning what he said. I still found it hard to believe after everything that had transgressed between us. I felt his mind-he was being honest.

The warm weight of his hand was still resting on the back of my left hand, and I truly did not know what to do. Was he offering his hand to assure me? To make me believe him? I didn't look down at our hands, I just continued blinking at him with wide, unsure eyes.

"When I called you Ben," I whispered. "You hated me." His face pulled together every so slightly in a wince, but he shook his head once. As far as I could tell and feel, he was still being honest with me.

"I don't exactly enjoy you calling me that," he pointed out. "But I can handle it. At least, in private, I think." I was dumbfounded. Was this an advanced form of trickery I had never been taught to defend against? Was he this good at shielding his true thoughts from me? I couldn't believe it.

I saw him frown deeply, and he pulled his hand back, leaving the back of my hand cold in its wake.

"You don't believe me," he didn't say it like a question, more like an observation.

"I just..." I started, shaking my head slightly. "Don't understand. I'm so confused, Ben," Was I opening up to him? "I mean, one moment we're at each other's throats, the next we're admitting we can't stand the thought of the other hurt, and agree that we don't hate each other? I mean, I know we're a dyad, but we're also sworn enemies," I pointed out to him. "Well, I guess we were sworn enemies." I had no idea what we were now? Friends, maybe? No, certainly not friends. I knew friendship with Finn and Poe and so many others, and this was nothing like that.

"You don't hate me?" He asked, as if this was news to him. I figured he had already guessed from my confession after my nightmare.

"Obviously," I breathed, staring into the deep dark pools of his eyes, noticing the way his black hair flopped in an endearing swoop over a bit of his forehead. Why was I starting to notice these things? How tired was I that I was now becoming delirious?

A small, crooked smile graced his features, showing faint lines at the corners of his eyes and corners of his mouth.

"Well, it wasn't so obvious," he teased. I couldn't help myself but flash a small smile back at him. We looked like this for only a few seconds before suddenly he disappeared, and I was alone again in my room, more confused than I had ever been in my life.