A/N: see end of chapter for trigger warning

Chapter 22: The Basilisk

37 ABY

Rey woke suddenly.

One moment she was dreaming—of a vast ocean, and at its center, an island. An outcropping of rock; a shadowy cave. We'll see each other again, a voice whispered. I promise.

The next moment, she was snapping into consciousness in a poorly lit room. She could tell that she was upright, or nearly so. She shifted, and found her arms restrained.

Unsurprising, she thought wryly, flexing her wrists against the metal clamps. She realized that her dislocated shoulder had been set, though the hand she had used to strike Ren was swollen and flecked with blood. She suspected that she had broken at least one finger.

As her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, she saw that the room was circular, measuring several yards across. Her restraints took the form of a rack, angled slightly backwards in a way that made her feel oddly exposed. She tilted her chin down and reached into the Force.

There was…nothing.

Confused, she tried again, allowing her mind to range out into the space around her, looking for anything she could grasp onto. Again, she came up blank. It was different than Ben and Serai's description of the ysalamiri, all those years ago. It had felt like an absence, they had told her. A deadness in the Force. This felt like the Force was there, somewhere, but on another plane. A place where Rey had once been able to reach, but no longer could.

The feeling shook her.

Taking a deep breath, she centered herself and pushed away the creeping sensation of fear. In her mind, she reviewed the facts.

I was captured by the Knights of Ren and what appeared to be an Imperial battalion. I am being held hostage, likely for interrogation. Colt and Serai escaped and will call for reinforcements. Poe Dameron is also being held captive. I am unable to access the Force, meaning that I have either been drugged or am in a cell that negates Force energy. She refused to consider the third possibility: that some permanent damage had been wrought to her mind that had rendered her as Force-sensitive as a rock. I need to escape and find Poe.

Her train of thought was interrupted by the sound of a door hissing open. There were footsteps behind her—boots on concrete. The urge to twist around and catch a glimpse of the intruder was nearly overpowering, but Rey forced herself to be still.

"Not so feisty now, are you Jedi?" Ren's voice resounded, its harsh modulation echoing through the small room. "How does it feel, being cut off from the Force?"

Rey didn't grace him with an answer.

His footsteps continued across the floor, slowly rounding the edge of her cell. "The Chiss didn't get many things right, but their lizards were a nasty bit of work," he continued. "They hated all Force users—wanted us rendered blind like cripples. Me…I only hate the ones arrogant enough to deny their true nature." The edge of his mask came into Rey's view, then his shoulders, wrapped in a sturdy black cloak. Two lightsabers were sheathed at his hip—the first his own, and the second Rey's saberstaff. "Kitsa was the one who developed the extract. She was mighty pleased to be the one to dose you. And now we can have a nice, civil conversation. Isn't that wonderful?"

Rey felt a rush of relief. Not permanent.

The drug was still an unfortunate reality. If what Ren had said was true, it put her totally at his mercy. Until it wore off, she would be reliant on nothing but her own strength and cunning. To prevent him from breaking into her mind for information she would have to fall back on sheer willpower and mental focus.

Rey was still deep in thought as Ren unhurriedly unclipped a short metal rod from his belt and touched its smooth end to the flesh of her wrist. For a moment she felt nothing but a cool pressure, but then—

-terrible pain ripped up her arm and curled itself around her spine. Her teeth snapped together and she tasted blood, the sharp tang of salt and iron as she bit through her tongue. The metal rod flickered with electricity and Ren pushed it deeper into her pulse point. Muscles locked, Rey attempted to writhe away, spasms jerking through her limbs—

The pain suddenly vanished as Ren drew the device away. "When I ask you a question," he continued, in the same tone and cadence as before, "you will answer me. Is that clear?"

Rey glared at him defiantly, panting. So it is not to be a battle of wills, then, she thought darkly.

Ren clicked his tongue. "I thought perhaps you'd be willing to do this the easy way. I would say that it's a shame, but really, I find the hard way a lot more enjoyable."

The instrument descended again, and Rey's back arched away from the rack. Her teeth ground down on the beginnings of a scream. She would not submit. She would not.

The pain didn't cease abruptly this time; it lingered in a series of aftershocks that made her limbs twitch uncontrollably.

"Do I make myself clear?" Ren snarled.

"I don't bargain with terrorists and murderers," Rey gasped between spasms.

"Ahh, but you do," Ren purred, and she could sense his satisfaction at dragging a response from her. "Terror and murder are in the eye of the beholder, young Jedi. Now, tell me your name."

"Fuck you," Rey hissed. She had barely a moment to brace herself before Ren's weapon came down again, this time pressing into the curve of her neck. Rey screamed, unable to control herself as electricity pulsed through her skin. Something niggled at the back of her mind—a memory. Or a thought?

No, she realized suddenly. Someone else's thought. Ren.

With an enormous effort of will, she summoned a vision of the endless dunes of Jakku. The hills stretched out into the hazy distance, so real that she could make out the ripple of heatwaves, could imagine the sharp prickle of sand against her skin, and could taste the sticky swollenness of her parched tongue.

Not what I came for, Ren's voice hissed in her ear. I know it's in here. And now you will give it to me.

The intensity of the pain ratcheted up a notch, and for a moment Rey lost hold of her vision. It slipped, and suddenly she was in space, with Serai's voice crackling in her ear. We'll land there, under the cover of the trees…

No!

Rey shoved Ren out of her mind and the pain receded.

She opened her eyes to find him standing before her, panting.

"You are strong," he told her. "An admirable quality. But even you are not strong enough."

The pain blossomed anew.

. . .

"Who authorized your mission?" Ren snarled. "Was it Skywalker?"

Rey set her jaw hard as the last vestiges of electric current burned down her arms. The endless minutes—or was it hours?—of torture that had already passed seemed exceedingly finite in comparison to those she knew were yet to come. The whole ordeal felt like a fever dream without end—a cyclone of pain from which there was no escape.

Had she the strength to lift her head, she was certain she would see red welts across her forearms where Ren's device had touched. But she didn't need to see them; their pain pulsed up her arms in sync with the pounding of her heart. Pain in her body, pain in her mind; it had all blurred together into one sensation that sapped her strength and undercut her will to go on. For the first time since her torture had begun, she recognized the inevitability of its conclusion: eventually she would run out of fight. And though no torture could compel her to answer Ren's questions willingly, she knew that eventually he would overpower her and take answers directly from her mind.

All this pain for nothing, she thought wearily. Are you trying to prove a point?

"Tell me where the others are!" Ren bellowed, not for the first time. He lashed out with his device, striking Rey's face. Her lip split, and she tasted blood again. "We found their footprints in the snow, and no ships have been allowed to leave Ilum! I know they're hiding somewhere!"

For a moment, Rey allowed herself to drift. Her eyes fluttered shut and she hovered on the cusp of foggy silence; an endless expanse of dreamless sleep where there was no pain, no sound, just the peaceful haze of nothingness.

The sharp crackle of electricity and the all-encompassing vise of pain drew her unwillingly to the surface.

Ren leaned in close, his mask mere inches from Rey's nose. She could hear his labored breathing. "Tell me, or I'll rip it out of your little fighter pilot's head! He doesn't have your mental fortifications, your training. By the time I'm done with him, he won't remember his own name."

Rey gathered herself and spat in his face, a spray of blood and saliva that spattered the vision ports of his mask.

He struck her again, this time clipping her temple. Dazed, she struggled to re-orient herself.

"You don't understand, do you?" Ren snarled. "Your friends will never find you here. You're on a ship in the Unknown Regions. We've executed countless hyperspace jumps to get here. We've passed through systems the New Republic has never even heard of. The only way they'll recover your body is if we send it to them in a box."

The cold fingers of uncertainty crept over Rey's skin. I'm going to die here, she thought. I'm going to die and Luke will never find me. Han will never find me. I'm going to die and I will never see Ben Solo again.

The last thought made her sad, and the sadness—still, after all these years—made her furious.

"What use would the New Republic have for my dead body anyways?" she mocked, channeling the last remnants of her bravado. "If you're going to kill me, just do it. I won't tell you anything."

"And if we torture the pilot?" Ren asked.

Rey hardened her heart. Don't give them power over you. She knew what Luke would say. One life, or many?

"I hardly know him," she answered. "In fact, I find his endless questions about the Force so irritating that I don't care what you do with him, so long as it doesn't involve keeping us in the same cell."

Ren looked as startled as his mask would allow. Don't oversell it, Rey, she thought uneasily.

"Oh?" he questioned. "You're not at all what I expected from a Jedi. Protect the weak, isn't that your mandate?"

Rey didn't answer.

"I'll take everything he knows," Ren whispered. "I'll rip it from his mind and make you watch. And even after he tells me what I want to know, I'll make his death as painful as it can possibly be. And you will know that it was you who brought about his fate. All you have to do is answer my questions."

"And what?" Rey asked, feeling suddenly sick. "You'll let us go?"

Ren hesitated. It was answer enough.

"Poe and I are both going to die," Rey murmured, the pilot's name slipping out of her mouth before she could stop it. Her head listed to the side, eyes angled away from Ren's mask. "There won't be any daring rescue, you've seen to that. You can't let us go free without exposing this entire operation. Whether we give you information or not, you'll kill us both. Can you blame me for bearing a little pain to keep my friends safe?"

Ren watched her appraisingly for a moment. "Let's try another line of questioning," he suggested, switching the metal baton from one hand to the other. Rey heard the click of his cybernetic fingers closing around it. "Where is Ben Solo?"

Rey froze, her eyes shifting up to his face. So far, he had asked only the questions she had anticipated: who are you? Why did you come to Ilum? What were your orders? How many others were with you? She had answered none of them, fearing that giving responses to even his most harmless queries would lead to a fatal slip-up. But this…this was something different.

Ren seemed to sense the change in her countenance and grasped onto it. "Friend of yours, is he? There's a pretty price on his head, don't you know? At first, I didn't make the connection, but really, how many saber wielders are then in this galaxy?" He gestured to his mechanical hand. "Did you know that he was the one who took my hand? His first blood, if what I'm told is correct. I could sense the darkness in him, even then."

"You know nothing about Ben Solo," Rey told him, unable to stop herself. "And you'll learn nothing from me."

"Oh, I think I will," Ren answered. "I think I'll learn many things from you. How about this? You tell me where you last saw Solo, and in return I promise that when I find him, his death will be quick. Painless, even."

Rey wished that she hadn't spat in his face before, if only so that she could do it again now. Her mouth was dry.

"Listen to me, Jedi," Ren murmured. "I like you. I really do. Under other circumstances, you could even have been one of the crew. The way things stand, you will tell me what I want to know before you die. I promise you that."

"I'll tell you one thing," Rey said calmly, willing her voice not to shake. "When Ben Solo finds you, you will die. And I highly doubt that it will be quick or painless."

She hoped it was an empty threat, but Ren didn't need to know that.

He tipped his head back and laughed. "Oh, you have spirit," he crowed. "I like that. The problem is, my dear, that Ben Solo has been searching for me for years. He's found a few of my compatriots, or maybe more than a few. You may have heard them whisper about the Basilisk,legendary assassin of Wild Space? Solo's mistake was using a saber for one too many kills. Now I know who's searching. He hasn't found me yet, and he never will."

Rey stared, fingertips cold with shock. The Basilisk, legendary assassin? I thought Ben was on one of the Core Worlds. Hosnian Prime? Or was it Bar'leth?

Ren laughed again, cold and cruel. "Oh, don't tell me you didn't know!?"

She gathered herself. "It sounds like you're a man on the run," she said coolly. "Not an enviable position." She suddenly remembered all the stories she had heard about the Basilisk while stationed at Canto Bight. How he was a ruthless killer, unstayed by pleas for mercy; how he tortured information out of each victim before leaving them for dead; how he kept a collection of trophies, stolen from the bodies of his victims. Ben?

She felt nauseous, and terrified in a way that even Ren's threats hadn't achieved.

"Oh no," Ren continued. "No, no. You see, Ben Solo won't find me because I will find him first. And when I do, it will be my pleasure to watch the life leave his eyes. Now tell me—"

He was interrupted by the door opening once more. "Sir," came the clipped tones of a stormtrooper. "The other prisoner has cracked."

Ren's head jerked up. "The pilot? He's given the location of the other Jedi?"

"Yes sir," the trooper answered crisply. "Interrogation room seven."

"Get out of my way!" Ren snapped, his cloak swirling behind him as he moved for the exit. "We're not finished yet, Jedi scum. When I'm done with the pilot, you're going to tell me exactly where the Basilisk is hiding!"

Rey heard his footsteps receding and the door slid shut once more. It was silent, and then more footsteps echoed through the room. The stormtrooper entered the Rey's line of sight, moving slowly. There were two of them, she realized, both dressed in perfectly polished white and black armor. They stopped in front of her.

Rey glared at them defiantly. "If you think I'll tell you anything—" she started.

The trooper closest to her reached up and flicked the clasp at the seal of its helmet, lifting the covering away in one, swift movement.

Rey stared in disbelief. "Wha—Poe?"

Before her stood Commander Dameron, his tousled dark hair damp with sweat, trademark smirk splashed across his face. "Fancy meeting you here," he said jauntily, tucking the helmet under one arm.

"No time for that," said the other trooper, tugging off its helmet. "We only have a few minutes before Ren realizes we lied to him."

The second face that confronted Rey was not one she'd seen before. The man beneath the mask was tall and dark skinned, with short-cropped hair and guileless eyes. He looked scared, she thought, but steady.

"I'm FN-2187," he told her, as he began de-activating the binders around her limbs. "I was going to rescue you first, but Ren was with you, so I thought—"

"Hey!" Poe cut in. "Why her first? I needed rescuing too!"

"I figured she'd be more useful," the trooper answered. "Lightsaber and all that."

"She doesn't have her lightsaber," Poe argued.

"Force tricks, then," the trooper answered, releasing the last restraint and stepping back.

"Don't have those either," Rey admitted, rubbing her wrists where they'd been chafed raw. "Drugged. You're the trooper from the gully. You saw my friends and didn't fire on them. You lied to your commanding officer. Why?"

FN-2187 looked deeply uncomfortable at her sudden interrogation. He looked one way, and then the other, squeezing the brim of his helmet in tight fists. "All my life I've been raised to kill people," he started. "I wanted—no, I needed—I—"

"Run now, philosophize later," Poe interjected, jamming his own helmet down over his head. "You stay in front Rey, and keep your hands behind your back like they're still cuffed. We're going to escort you down to the hangar real secretive-like and steal ourselves a ship."

In retrospect, the plan was doomed to failure from the start.

No sooner had they made it into the hall than an alarm claxon began to sound, signaling, no doubt, Poe's escape.

"This way," FN-2187 hissed, dragging Rey to the right. They passed down a narrow hallway at a brisk clip. Rey's head pounded as she struggled to maintain a straight line.

Poe's grasp on her wrists tightened. "You good?" he whispered. "That Ren was a piece of work. What did he do to you anyways?"

"Shh!" FN-2187 said. "Run now, sympathize later!"

If Rey had felt slightly more lucid, she would have laughed at their bickering antics.

As it was, the task of keeping herself upright was challenge enough. She wasn't sure if her dizziness and fatigue were a result of the drug in her system, or the delayed effects of shock. The former, she hoped. The latter would just be embarrassing.

They worked their way through the maze of corridors, turning left, then right, then left again, so many times that Rey admitted grudgingly that even if she'd escaped on her own, she would have spent the rest of her days wandering the labyrinth of this durasteel plated prison. FN-2187 was an effective guide, choosing turns without hesitation and hailing every trooper detachment that passed them with a swift salute. She still wasn't sure that she understood his angle, but she and Poe had little choice but to trust him.

She stumbled over a short step and regained her balance just as yet another squadron of clones rounded the corner ahead of them. Leading them, was the chrome-plated captain from Ilum.

"Kriff," she heard FN-2187 whisper, just as Phasma caught sight of them.

"Freeze!" she shouted, levelling her spear on them. Its tip danced with short bursts of electricity, making Rey jerk with surprise. She could still feel the burn of Ren's weapon arcing up her arms.

Without hesitation, Poe and FN-2187 opened fire. Rey threw herself to the ground, diving for the first fallen trooper. Her hand wrapped around its blaster and jerked it free from the soldier's dying grasp. Next, she scrambled for cover, finding it behind a narrow bulkhead that shielded her from enemy fire.

"We have to make it past them!" she heard FN-2187 shout. "The other doors to the hangar will be sealed!"

"Traitor!" Phasma snarled, advancing down the hall, shimmering weapon in hand. "FN-2187, I will put you down like the dog you are!"

From her hiding place, Rey fired. The first blast pinged off Phasma's chest plate; the second off her helmet. The trooper whirled on Rey, striking out with her lance. It connected with Rey's chest, sending a jolt down her spine and flinging her backwards. She struck another body and they slumped to the ground together.

"Are you okay?" It was FN-2187, urging her gently to her feet. "Come on, we have to run! Now!"

Rey needed no second warning. She scrambled after the trooper as fast as she could, blaster fire striking the floor behind her. His hand was wrapped around hers, pulling her along. They staggered to a T-junction and skidded left, followed by Poe.

"Air ducts," FN-2187 panted, as Rey disentangled their hands. "The ventilation system isn't surveilled. If we can find a panel, we might have the chance to—" He skidded to a stop and snatched up Rey's hand again, dragging her back in the direction they'd come from. In front of them, a second squadron of troopers had appeared. More blaster fire rang through the corridor.

"Stop taking my hand!" Rey panted, wrenching herself free and chasing after Poe. A blaster bolt clipped FN-2187's armor and buried itself in the ceiling.

"Faster!" he urged, as they careened down the passageway.

They ducked left, and then right, fueled by sheer luck and adrenaline.

Rey's ribs ached, and the corridor was beginning to swim before her eyes. For a moment she almost blacked out. The silent rush of hyperspace seemed to press in on her. She blinked and was back on the starship.

FN-2187 caught her hand for the third time and pulled her to a stop in front of a tall metal grate. "Help me!" he ordered Poe, lifting it up on one side. Together they shifted the panel to the side and scrambled into the dark crawl space, knees bumping, elbows finding purchase in ribs. Rey sprawled to her stomach and scrambled forward as Poe and the trooper heaved the grate back into place.

And with not a moment to spare. The clatter of boots alerted them to Phasma's approaching squadron. FN-2187 raised as single finger to where his lips would've been, had he not been wearing a mask. Rey held her breath, willing her heart rate to slow.

"Split up and search both corridors," Phasma ordered. "They're around here somewhere."

The sound of footsteps faded.

"We don't have much time," FN-2187 whispered. "Soon they'll check the security footage and see where we went. This shaft should take us to the hangar." He cocked his head to once side speculatively. "Or maybe the incinerator. I don't remember."

"What?" Poe and Rey whisper-shouted.

FN-2187 shrugged helplessly, the perfect image of, I'm doing my best, okay?

They scrambled through near-darkness for several minutes before they came upon a junction and turned right. Rey's palms were sweating, and it made her traction on the polished floors weak at best. Her dizziness and fainting spells had shifted into full visual and auditory hallucinations. A voice chanted her name and a strange blue glow rimmed her vision. For a moment she thought she smelled the sharp tang of pine and rain. Anger flashed through her, hot and sudden. What's happening to me? she wondered.

Finally, when Rey was certain that they would crawl through the dark forever, FN-2187 motioned for them to stop. He raised his hand to his lips again, before shimmying forward and carefully, quietly disengaging the locks that held the grate in front of them in place. He slid it to the side one slow inch at a time.

They were greeted by a mask of black durasteel.

"Oh, hello," the female Force-user hummed. "We've been waiting for you."

Behind her stood a phalanx of stormtroopers, guns at the ready.

Rey had seen Senator Hux in person before, but meeting him here, on a starship in the Unknown Regions, was oddly chilling. The Senator could not have been older than thirty, with short auburn hair and a face pinched into a permanent expression of disgust. Although his presence provided the evidence she'd been desperate for, Rey knew that he would not have revealed his hand unless he was very certain that they would not be escaping with their lives.

"Ahh, our runaway prisoners," he drawled. "And a stormtrooper. What is your designation, trooper?"

When FN-2187 made no response, the trooper behind him gave a sharp nudge with its blaster.

"His designation is FN-2187, Commander Hux," Phasma answered. "A defective unit, no doubt. An example shall be made of him to remind the others what happens to traitors."

"A pity I had to give up command of the training program when I transitioned into politics," Hux responded. "No trooper would've dared defect under my control. See to it that his unit leader is sanctioned."

"Yes, general," Phasma answered, executing a short bow.

Hux turned his attention to Rey and Poe, crossing the short distance between them in several strides. They were in a large chamber just aft of the bridge where he had chosen to receive them after being informed of their failed escape attempt.

"The two of you have caused a great deal of trouble," he admitted. His gaze flickered over Rey, clearly finding her lacking. "You're one of Skywalker's imps, aren't you? One of your Order has been nosing around in places he doesn't belong. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to find you here."

Rey didn't answer. She was focusing on staying upright without support, and her vision was flickering in and out like a faulty circuit.

Hux's eyes shifted to Ren, standing behind her. "What's wrong with her?" Hux asked.

"An unpredicted side effect of the drug, perhaps," Ren answered. "We gave her enough to keep her quiet for days."

"Fascinating," Hux answered, in a voice that made it clear he found it anything but. "Well, a shame that you wasted it. Kill all three of them."

"General!" Ren interjected. "They are withholding important information relevant to our investigation on Ilum. Surely if you give me more time I can—"

"The situation on Ilum is under control," Hux cut in. "The other Jedi are pinned down by our forces. No one can leave that planet without being blown to smithereens. Furthermore, they have no evidence of my involvement. The same cannot be said for our friends here. If they were to escape, it would cause far more damage to the Order."

"Kill the pilot by all means," Ren suggested. "But spare the Jedi, for now. She has other information that could prove…valuable."

"Ren, I have very little interest in your petty squabbles with the Jedi. You have proven yourself incapable of subduing the prisoners, so I must take matters into my own hands."

Rey sensed, more than felt, the clench of Ren's teeth behind his mask. Sensed? Was her connection to the Force returning? The air around her felt strange, immaterial. She had the oddest sense that she was missing something, like a specter standing just out of reach.

"Phasma," Hux ordered. "Firing squad will do. Now, before they mount another escape attempt."

"General, if you please," Ren interrupted again. Hux hissed through his teeth in annoyance. "If you will not aid in my attempts to find and destroy the Jedi assassin once and for all, perhaps you'll allow me the pleasure of executing the girl myself?"

Hux hesitated, uncertain. "This isn't one of your tricks, is it?" he asked finally.

"No trick, sir," Ren answered. "I simply want to watch the light leave her eyes. The beginning of my revenge against the man who took my hand." He clenched the cybernetic fist in front of him.

"I hardly think The Basilisk will care what you do to the girl," Hux answered airily, tugging at the wrist of one glove. "But it's no concern of mine. So long as she ends up dead." He turned abruptly, fixing his pale gaze on Phasma. "Oversee the executions, commander."

"As you wish, General Hux," Phasma responded, saluting the Senator as he stalked towards the bridge. Feet from the door he stopped, turned. His pale eyes met Rey's across the room.

"The First Order will be victorious," he said quietly. "It will achieve what the Empire only dreamed of. A pity you won't be there to see it."

And with that, he was gone.

"One last chance," Ren hissed, turning on Rey. "Hux said you were to end up dead, but made no specifications as to how long it takes to do it. Maybe losing a hand will loosen your tongue." The room hummed with the unsheathing of his saber. To his right, the Force-sensitive woman gripped her weapon. "Maybe I'll even let Kitsa take a finger or two—they say a vibro-axe is a hell of a lot more painful than a lightsaber."

"Commander Ren—" Phasma began.

"Shut it, tin can," Ren snarled. "This is Force-user business. Now, Rey, why don't you tell me where you last saw Ben Solo?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Rey saw Poe's head swing towards her in surprise. Certainly he was familiar with the name—most in the Core Worlds were, after the reveal of Ben's relation to Darth Vader—but she wasn't sure whether Poe knew that he was also a Jedi. And assuredly he didn't know that Ben was the Basilisk who had been hunting the Knights of Ren.

Rey tilted her chin up defiantly. "I have no use for my hands if you plan to kill me anyways," she declared, with more courage than she felt. Inside her heart withered, rebelling against the thought of more pain. Just let me die, she thought. Let it end.

No, an answer echoed through the Force.

Through the Force?

Turning her mind inwards, Rey reached out with all she had. There was something—something there. Slippery and hard to grasp, shaped in unexpected and strikingly familiar patterns. It felt different, but not wrong. The Force had returned to her. Now if only she could hold onto it! It was like grasping at water as it slid through the cracks in her palms. Impossible.

"Kitsa, perhaps you'd like to do the honors?" Ren said. "Start with the right hand, if you will."

Kitsa stepped forward with grim resolve, hefting her vibro-axe. Rey fought desperately to catch hold of the Force, so desperately that she offered no physical resistance when the woman kicked her knees out from under her, forcing her to kneel. "Hands out, Jedi scum," she ordered.

Be with me, Rey chanted in her mind. Be with me. Be with me.

Her bound hands were wrenched forward and pinned to the floor before her. She crouched, weak and vulnerable beneath the shadow of the last Knight of Ren. The vibro-axe rose, blade glittering.

"Stop."

The voice was cold. It cracked like a whip, heavy with the air of command, impossible to ignore. The echo of Force persuasion reverberated through it. It was a voice that brooked no argument; a voice that held not a single thread of kindness.

It was a voice that had changed, but one that would never stop being familiar.

Kitsa froze, axe held at the zenith of its stroke. Her mask swiveled towards the door where Hux had disappeared moments before. Rey followed her gaze, disbelieving.

Silhouetted against the door was a tall, black-robed figure.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Poe exclaimed, exasperated. "There's another one?"

The figure ignored him. "You don't want to do that," it said, voice calm, silky. "Put down the weapon."

Kitsa lowered her blade immediately.

"What are you doing?" Ren snapped. "Kill the girl!" He took a step towards Rey and froze, as if a great hand had reached down and grasped him, holding him in place. His limbs shook with strain.

"Touch her," the figure continued coldly, "and you won't just wish you were dead. You'll wish you'd never been born."

With a single, black-gloved hand, the intruder reached up to unclasp the fixture of its cloak, allowing it to drop to the floor.

And for the first time in seven years, Rey looked up into the eyes of Ben Solo.

A/N: Trigger warning: torture scene. I would say the level of violence is pretty canon-compliant, and the scene itself is similar to scenes in Return of the Jedi (right before Palpatine gets yeeted), TFA (Poe's torture scene) and TLJ (Snoke's throne rooms scene). That said, I wanted to warn y'all because I know the psychological context of violence can make it harder to read. If you want to skip the scene, I recommend stopping after: "To prevent him from breaking into her mind for information she would have to fall back on sheer willpower and mental focus." You can start reading again at ""You don't understand, do you?" Ren snarled." You shouldn't miss any major plot points!

Hope you enjoy(ed) the chapter. I so badly want to write infinite Reylo reunion + fluff, but alas, we all must wait a little while longer :')

-A