One of the positive aspects of my pregnancy was the fact that it guaranteed my survival. Based on Ren's demeanor, I judged that the baby was more important to him than me. He probably wanted a child who was strong in the Force; he didn't care if I was ready to become a mother or not. I often wondered if it would be taken away from me after its birth, which didn't sound so bad.

I quickly set these kinds of thoughts aside, so I wouldn't completely lose my mind.

As long hours in the room turned into days, I got accustomed to a daily routine. The pink and purple light of dawn would wake me to perform my morning hygiene. I began to struggle with occasional nausea, particularly in the morning. The droid—or "9-E," the serial number engraved on the side of its head—would then usher me to the mess hall. I would eat and then return to the room. Morning activities consisted of reading through bland database entries on my computer terminal, doing basic bodyweight exercises, or just lying around. Then lunch. Then dinner. Then sleep.

I had never been so bored in all my life.

On the fourth day, something interesting happened. I found a wrist communicator on one of the shelves in the sitting room, the decorative objects there having obstructed it from view. I immediately strapped it on and marveled at the blue light that blinked to life. It seemed to be a regular com, but only one frequency was available.

"Do you know anything about this, 9-E?" I asked, showing the droid my new find.

He shook his head, giving an inquisitive chirp. I still didn't understand most of what he said, though we had discovered other forms of communication.

I debated opening the com for several minutes. What if it just linked to the guards outside the door? Would they suspect me of foul play? Hesitantly, I pressed the blue flashing button. The person on the other end responded immediately, taking me off guard.

"Lucia."

"Uh—" My stomach twisted into knots at the crisp sound of Ren's voice. "Oh...I—I didn't realize—"

"I forgot to tell you," he interrupted. His tone was completely neutral. "It's strictly for emergencies."

"Right...," I said awkwardly into my wrist.

There was a breathless pause, during which my finger hovered over the light. "I'll be back on Supremacy in a few days."

I tried my best to keep my voice steady. "Are you planning to come here?"

This time, the pause was so long that I thought he had gone. "No," he finally said.

Unwelcome disappointment filled me. "Won't you...?"

Stars! I shouldn't have said that.

I could only picture his reaction. "Perhaps," he said vaguely. A beep signaled that the com had been closed.

Collapsing onto the couch, I turned the brief exchange over in my mind a hundred times. It sounded as though he had planned to not visit me but was open to entertaining the idea. I didn't want him to visit me anyway. Did he interpret me asking him to visit me as me wanting him to visit me? Because I didn't. Want him to visit, that is.

9-E's dark frame caught my eye as he milled about the room. His red eye had gone from intimidating to comforting in the span of a few days. The chefs that rotated in and out of the mess hall were particularly cold.

"9-E," I called, causing him to stop dead in his track. "Am I ever going to get out of here?"

The bot beeped thoughtfully. He projected a small hologram with a digital countdown: 7 months; 11 days; 10 hours; 21 minutes; 5 seconds.

My...pregnancy?

I laughed outright, surprised by his sense of humor. He simply resumed his endless trek around the room.

I decided to go to sleep early that night. 9-E was very upset that I decided to skip dinner, but he got over it. The thought of seeing Ren again made me extremely nervous, which just made me nauseous. On nights like this, I could only lie in bed and stare up at the stars, hoping to lose consciousness eventually.

Three days passed uneventfully, making way for another horrifyingly boring day. That morning, 9-E had taken me to the medical ward for my weekly check-up. The officer was the same as before; he said that the weekly visits were mandatory. It consisted of an ultrasound, lab work, and additional vitamins. Thirty minutes later, I was already back in the room.

After the appointment, I stood in front of a mirror and looked at my body. Over the course of just seven days, I had gained five pounds. My weight had never concerned me, but then again, it usually never changed. I lifted my shirt and palpated the growing bulge of my abdomen. I rested my hand there, picturing the tiny lifeform inside.

A spike of fear shot through me.

"Stars," I breathed, letting my shirt fall. I'll think about that later.

Pressing the heel of my hand to my forehead, I couldn't help but notice my face in the mirror. My eyes were free of dark circles, my skin was clear, and my hair was smooth and silky. I looked...very well.

Suddenly, the continuous hum of the force field's continuous hum stopped. Heart leaping into my throat, I padded barefoot out of the fresher to see Kylo Ren standing in his usual spot. Without the force field, I felt naked before him.

"Ren," I breathed in surprise.

"You look rested," he said, his lips attempting to smile.

I schooled my expression into what I hoped was an unreadable mask. "There's nothing to do here but rest."

He hummed.

We stared at each other briefly. He did not look rested—he looked exhausted. The mark on his face had healed somewhat, but it was still a prominent and ominous feature. He suddenly gestured to my living space.

"May I?" he asked, voice low.

I nodded awkwardly.

Without hesitation, he walked into the sitting room and took a seat on the couch. Adjusting his robe into a comfortable position, he laid his head back against the cushions and closed his eyes. He released a deep sigh. I chose to remain standing, nervously twiddling my fingers.

"How was your mission?" I asked.

"Frustrating. Very frustrating." He ran a hand through his hair as he spoke. I could practically see the mission playing through his mind as his brow furrowed. "The Resistance stragglers are cowardly and good at hiding."

I brought my arms to the front and crossed them over my chest. "You'll track them down eventually."

"True," he agreed, cracking one eye open. "You've missed so much. I want to have you by my side in battle again." Panic shot through me at the thought of actually being back in uniform, and a small smirk appeared on his face. "Of course, I couldn't have you running off to join the Resistance."

I frowned in disappointment. "You know I would never do that."

"Do I?" Ren challenged with a slight narrowing of his eyes. "Traitor?"

The word practically burned me, mentally and physically. I fidgeted.

Giving up easily, he let out another sigh and closed his eyes. His body seemed to melt into the cushions. His casual manner—and vulnerability—came as a surprise. I pondered that his emotional confession last week had something to do with it.

My eyes hungrily traced the new lines on his face. The scar on his cheek actually extended down his neck and began just above his eye. Impulsively, I took a seat on the ottoman in front of the couch, sitting diagonally to him. The movement caused his eyes to snap open.

"There's so much I could do to resist," I said quietly. "But I don't."

His gaze locked with mine immediately. The idle flame in his eyes reminded me of why I had fallen for him in the first place. His intensity. He was utterly compelling, even now.

"I've been perfectly compliant this week," I told him. "I'm following my diet, seeing the doctor, keeping my mouth shut. All without complaint."

He suddenly straightened in his seat, closing some of the distance between us. He put an elbow to his knee. "You cannot manipulate me," he murmured softly. "You threw away your liberty when you left."

In spite of my self-preservation instinct, I couldn't resist my impulse to retaliate. "Don't speak to me of liberty," I spat. "You never gave me a choice."

He breathed out incredulously. "How differently we see the past," he mused. "You cannot deny it was your choice to leave."

"Yes."

His eyes carefully took in the angry expression on my face. Then he looked away, his jaw clenching in silent resignation. "Regardless," he ground out, rising to his feet. "Your duty to the First Order was reason enough to stay."

As he breezed passed me, I fought to keep the emotion out of my voice. "From the very start, I was more loyal to you than to the First Order."

"Your actions show otherwise," he said, a tinge of hurt in his voice.

I glanced over my shoulder. He was standing in front of a screen that displayed an orange-and-red binary sunset. I heaved a sigh, deciding it was pointless to argue about the past since it couldn't be undone. I stared at my hands in my lap, waiting for him to leave.

"I sense your regret," Ren suddenly said. His gloved hands were behind his back, patiently folded.

I shook my head in denial. Why would I regret leaving a man who abused me?

"I know you missed me, Lucia," he continued softly. A chill passed through me, and my eyes fell to the ground. "You cannot suppress your true feelings, but you're trying. As usual." His tone was disaffected.

I suddenly found myself wanting to see his face. My legs stood against my better judgment and took me over to him. He glanced down at me as I stood at his side, a look of mild surprise on his face. Without my shoes on, he stood head and shoulders above me.

He lifted a hand with careful control, slowing his movements as if trying not to frighten an animal. The scent of leather filled my senses as his fingertips brushed softly over my cheek. The contact sent an inexplicable thrill throughout my body, and my lips parted.

"You'll remember your place soon enough," he murmured.

My heart started to pound as he walked away. I didn't try to stop him. Humiliation washed over me like cold water as the force field's unfriendly hum began again. I bit my lip hard, hating the way his touch lingered on my skin.