Ten miserable days passed. I didn't see Ren at all—not even in passing. I felt starved of his presence and worried that my actions were to blame. I vowed to myself to never repeat them.
Catching onto my frequent visits, the medical team limited my visitation to one hour a day. I sat with him at breakfast each morning, reading him interesting stories I had found in the archives from my datapad. After that, I went to the gym and exercised by myself. Then I went to the range and shot by myself. Then I spent a long afternoon in boredom and a long evening on the computer again.
By the seventh day, I had approached a member of General Hux's staff and begged for some kind of duty. I was given access to a roster of base patrols along with a stern look.
I specifically chose my third patrol for its location. It was two kilometers away from base, but the short hike through the snow-dusted forest was worth it. I slipped my blaster rifle onto my back and removed my helmet to get a better view.
The lake from the day of my capture looked different. It appeared smaller from this direction, and its muddy banks appeared less dangerous. I found that I had already forgotten so many details of that day. Except for one.
I was startled when I heard footsteps behind me.
The icy breeze rustled his hair and swept his cloak over his shoulder. His helmet was under his arm, and he squinted as though he had just taken it off. The reflective snow made him appear three shades paler. His affect was completely flat, betraying no emotion on his face. He continued to stare straight ahead as he joined me.
"Caltrel," he rasped, nodding stiffly.
"Sir."
There was only one reason he would go so far out of his way to seek me out. I pressed my flushed lips together, bracing myself for a reprimand.
"How is Vegas?"
I clutched my helmet a little tighter. "Improving every day," I said breathily. "They anticipate releasing him tomorrow or the next day."
"Good."
As silence descended, I felt my nerves crescendo. His intentions were strangely unclear, and his expression strangely unrevealing. If he was upset with me, he would've shown it by now. I cleared my throat, desperate to fill the empty silence.
"I've been reading a lot."
A spark of interest lit his eyes. "Tell me what you find most interesting."
I shifted my feet in the snow to face him slightly. "The Supreme Leader's entries after the fall of the Empire," I said experimentally.
He turned his face, looking at the snowbank at our feet. "Anything specific?"
I thought of the one narrative that I kept going back to. "He talks about how Lord Vader betrayed the Emperor. Allowed Death Star II to be destroyed."
Ren nodded, his eyebrows coming together and his gaze clouding with thought. "Anakin Skywalker made many mistakes in his life."
"Skywalker?"
"Mhm. Luke's father."
The information was difficult to fully process. I set it aside for later. "The Supreme Leader...doesn't talk about himself," I said hesitantly.
"Snoke was the son of a Sith worshiper, given as a slave to Lord Sidious. He was abused from a young age. After Palpatine died, his pain helped him grow strong in the Dark Side."
"Sith worshipers," I murmured. "Where are they now?"
"Dead."
When he didn't elaborate, my mind filled with theories. Did Snoke kill them all? Snoke and Ren? Were they Force-sensitive? Or just members of a cult? I began to wonder if I would have joined such a cult. And what the power of the Dark Side actually felt like. My eyes drew patterns in the snow as my hand clenched at my side.
"Lucia..."
My given name, so foreign to me by now, made me gasp. I looked at him.
Vulnerability spilled onto his face, transforming his expression of detachment into something very different. His eyes flickered between mine, and he breathed through parted lips. My mouth opened in awe.
He cares about me.
Abruptly, he turned away and hid his face. His shoulders rose and fell with ragged breaths that clouded in front of him. With a frustrated growl, he raised his helmet and placed it on his head. The seal hissed, and he whirled back around. His posture was aggressive, and he took a frightening step toward me. My vocal cords could barely function.
"S—Sir...?"
"I am unable to navigate these...feelings I have for you."
I fell back a step, shocked and speechless. His hand cut the air between us like a knife.
"My mind is afflicted by you."
I stared at the dark visor of his mask in amazement. "I...I'm sorry..."
Letting out a sardonic laugh, he crossed his arms. "You're not sorry," he accused. "My pain fascinates you."
I shook my head, trying to collect my whirling thoughts. My mind suddenly opened up to entirely new possibilities. The possibility that I could be with him.
"Sir, I—"
My communicator went off. When he gestured angrily, I turned away and answered it. I didn't even bother trying to compose myself.
"This...this is C—Caltrel."
"FN-3138, this is Sergeant Paxton. Your checkpoint in sector N is thirty minutes late. Provide your status."
"Sorry, Sergeant." I took a breath. "Weather delay. I'll be there shortly."
"See to it, Trooper," the voice bit out.
I whirled around breathlessly, but he was already gone. He had vanished into the forest, with only his footprints as proof that he had been there at all.
My center of gravity shifted after that. I thought of Ren even more than before, to the extent that I felt nauseous every moment. Sleep eluded me. Eating was a chore.
Over the next two days, I approached the door to his quarters many times. Every time, my own anxiety chased me away. Then I would lie in bed, heart racing at the very thought of him.
I was the definition of "afflicted."
