Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I don’t understand how this happened?"

"Where did she come from?"

"Is she a Resistance spy?”

As your eyes opened, you felt a terrible pounding in your head — the bright lights in combination with the loud voices triggering a wave of nausea. As the feeling of bile rose in your throat, you tried to roll onto your side only to feel the pull of restraints at your wrists.

As you tried to sit up, the frantic voices seemed to quite suddenly before a heavy hand pushed your head back onto the hard surface you were laying on. The pain, causing your vision to swim more as you were barely able to make out the disheveled face of the man above you. The pain, nausea, and ringing in your ears was making it difficult for you to make out his angered words.

As the world began to fade and darkness clouded your vison the last thought that ran across your conscious was

‘Where the hell am I?’

xx-XXXXX-xx

Kylo stared at the unconscious girl laying restrained to the lab table. She was covered from head to toe in soot, her strange clothing stained with blood in some areas from cuts. He and Hux had been called to the developing Starkiller base after an unexplained explosion had erupted near the reactor. The emergency personal were still sifting through the rubble for bodies and other survivors. The volatility of the explosion, leaving all to assume that anyone near the blast was obliterated, making the unconscious girl a true enigma. Her body had been found relatively unscathed near the reactor chamber.

The base personal had restrained her in the medical bay after determining she was not a member of the Order.  The current assumption was that she was a resistance spy who had sabotaged the reactor and destroyed a portion of the base.

Kylo’s fists tightened, whether she was a Resistance spy or not, there was something more pressing on his mind about the girl.  He couldn’t sense a presence from her. The Force was within all living things, and it flowed through each being anchoring them to galaxy. But the girl before him was nothing; the Force bent around her, leaving a void of nothingness as though she were dead. However, the slow rise and fall of her chest told him that she was very much alive and by all appearance’s human.

Kylo’s shifted his view toward Hux and the medical staff. He had long since drowned out Hux’s tirade about the state of his precious base. As he turned his attention back to the girl, he extended his hand once more, trying to feel the girl’s presence but alas, all he felt was nothingness. His fist clenched as anger and frustration bubbled to the surface of his mind.

“Silence!” Kylo raised his voice to quiet the room, never taking his eyes off the girl.

“General secure the girl for transport, she’s returning with us.”, Kylo ordered as he turned and pushed past Hux and the staff, ignoring Hux’s questions. As he marched down the hall; technicians, officers, and troopers scrambled from his path. His mind was reeling at the unexplained phenomenon presented before him. Once the girl was on board, he would contact the Supreme Leader. As he was confident, his master would find his discovery of great significance.

Chapter Text

Your eyes cracked open after being jostled. You heard a voice speaking, but you couldn’t make out any of the words. The ringing in your ears made everything feel muffled as if you had just come back from a concert. You stare at the ceiling as the world around you came back into focus. Everything on your body was sore.

As you regained your bearings, you sat up slowing. It looked like you were in an emergency room. You tried to think, but couldn’t remember being in an accident. The last thing you remember was getting home from work, putting on exercise clothes and going for a walk. Then nothing. You looked back up at the man in front of you. Maybe he was your doctor and could tell you how you ended up in a hospital.

“Excuse me, Sir, do you know what happened to me?”

You watched as the man jumped your voice startling him. As he turned around, he was pointing some weird gun at you. A scream ripped through your lips as you scrambled off the table, falling painfully onto the floor before you clambered to your feet holding your hands up in surrender.

“Hey wait a minute man. Don’t shoot; I’m unarmed. I don’t even know where I am!” You yelled out holding your hands above your head as you back away from him. You bump into a cart before moving it infront of you as if it was going to save you from being shot. You try to ignore the pain throughout your body. As you look are the room looking for the door so you could make a run for it. Panic overtook you as you watched him pick up a scary looking metal syringe.

“Intruder, comply with the First Order, and you will not be harmed.”

You almost wanted to snort as the psycho doctor continues to slowly approach you while still holding a gun and a syringe. A sense of dread kicks in as you think some deranged man has kidnaped you for some creepy, weird experiment.

Your head jerked to your right as you heard a swish as the metal wall, which you now realized was a door, opened and a man with his arm in a sling walked in. Pausing in the doorway as he processed what was going on.

You looked from the doctor to the man in the doorway back to the doctor. You quickly picked up the tray on the stand you were using as a barrier and threw it at the doctor’s face before bolting for the door. You intentionally rammed into the mans’ wounded arm, causing him to cry out as you both tumbled out the door. You scrambled to get up looking at your surroundings to your right you see people in black uniforms as you hear them yell you quickly took off to your left down the metal hallway.

You didn’t know where you were you frantically took turn after turn down identical-looking hallways. Your heart beat faster, and your lungs burned. You halted as you came to a four-way intersection contemplating which way to go. As you look down the tunnels, you hear yelling and footsteps coming from behind you. Suddenly you felt a breeze and took off in that direction hoping it would lead you out of wherever the hell you were.

As you rounded the corner, you saw bent metal and broken pipes and wires strewn about the hallway. It looked like something had exploded. Your eyes landed on a bellowing clear plastic tarp. You move toward tarp as you yank it back felt a frigid breeze across your face, as you saw a winter wonderland. All of which made no sense to you because it was July. Your thoughts were interrupted as the sound of footsteps, and yelling got closer. You look out into the snow-covered landscape and then back down the hallway. You decided that you would rather take your chances freezing to death than deal with a bunch of gun-wielding freaks.

As soon as your feet hit the snow, the cold seeped through your sneakers and workout clothes. As you rounded the corner, you ducked down behind a metal structure as you saw what looked like robots in white armor walking supplies off of some big black airplane. The sound of shouting rang in your ears as you heard footsteps crunching in the snow. You quickly looked around yourself for somewhere to hide; you spotted a small crawl space between some pipes. Without any hesitation, you ducked down and backed into the tiny space. Watching as people in black uniforms came running by shouting at the robots that the intruder had escaped.

You watched as the men in black uniforms gave commands to the robots before they stopped what they were doing and took off in different directions, you assumed to find you. Just as you were about to crawl from your hiding spot, two big black heavy boots stood at the entrance to the crawl space. You covered your mouth to keep from breathing too loud. You watched silently as the person stood still feet facing toward you before they disappeared. You waited on bated breath for a few minutes before you let out a sigh of relief and moved to climb out the crawl space.

Just as you were about to emerge, you heard a heavy thump, and then a mask-wearing black-clad figure crouched at the entrance. You shrieked in surprise and terror as the man's arm shot under the pipes and into the crawl space, his hand grabbing your hair. You pull your head back trying to move further back into the crawl space. You kick out your leg to try and dislodge his hand from your hair only for his hand to grab your ankle and drag you from the crawl space. You grab onto a pipe trying to prevent him from pulling you out further, only for him to yank you harder pulling you and the pipe out into the open.

As he drops your ankle, you watch as he stares at you briefly before he moves in closer. You quickly pull your feet to your chest and kick with all your might, nailing him in the groin area. You hear a muddled grunt as he hunches and clutches his junk. Before he can recover, you raise up and hit his head with the loose pipe still in your hand. You hear a crack like shattering plastic before you turn tail and try to make a run for it. You only get a couple of steps before you feel yourself being lifted off your feet before being body slammed into the ground. As the air fled from your lungs, the man clad in black robes moves to stand above you, the last thing you hear is a feral growl followed by a huge fist slamming into your head.

xx-XXXXX-xx

Kylo felt anger seeping through his skin; at first, he was slightly annoyed that the girl had escaped the med bay. Although he was not able to use the force to find her, he was able to track her footprints in the snow. He was slightly amused when he had tracked her to a crawl space under the maintenance pipes.

He stood in front of the entrance waiting for her to surrender voluntarily. After realizing she would not come out, he moved away from the entrance making it appear as though he had left. When she still did not come out, his amusement turned to agitation. He hit the pipes making her yelp before he crouched down and tried to grab her. She had managed to back up far enough that his hands only caught her hair. Her shrieking was beginning to hurt his ears; then he felt a kick as she tried to dislodge his hand from her hair. He quickly grabbed her ankle and pulled. Hitting a snag, when she must have found something to cling onto. He gave one final hard yank, and she came sliding out into the snow, screaming.

He stared at her for a moment she looked like a lost, wounded animal about to be slaughtered. As he went to grab her by the front of her shit, the girl surprised him by kicking him in the groin with both her legs. As he hunched over slightly and clutched his privates, the shrieking little harlot reared up and hit him in the head with a pipe. He heard his mask crack. As he turned back to her, he felt nothing but rage, and he charged after her retreating form. He swiftly grabbed her by the waist lifting her off her feet and slamming her into the ground. He watched as she gasped for her breath. Before he knew it, he was over her prone form a growl leaving his chest as his fist came down on her head.

He watched as she instantly went limp and fell back into the snow unconscious.

He turned just in time to see Hux staring at him in shock and surprise. He turned his head to the troopers next to Hux.

Seething, he bit out “Restrain her and put her on the shuttle, now!”

He looked back down at the girl clenching his fist before stomping away. He knew if he stood there any longer, he would have activated his saber and mutilated the little bitch.

Chapter Text

Hux stared at the unconscious girl in front of him as she sat strapped into her seat with her wrists and ankles bound in restraints. Her appearance was quite average, nothing remarkable; however, her clothing was strange. He had never seen clothing like hers. Her legs were covered in a skin-tight vibrant yellow and black fabric, while her black shirt had a giant checkmark and the letters NIKE on it. His eyes drifted lower; the same symbol was on her strange and equally vibrant footwear. Although her clothes had small rips, they were still viable, and he would have them examined once they processed her as a prisoner.

His eyes drifted back to her face; he could see the swelling beginning to form above her eye. He was quite surprised that the girl was still alive, given the ferocity with which he saw Ren strike her. He felt a smirk pull at his lips. He had seen the tail end of their scuffle, how she had kicked Ren in the groin than hit him in the head with a pipe. If she weren’t a potential resistance spy, he would have been tempted to reward her bravery.

His eyes moved to the closed door of the briefing room. He was positive that Ren was speaking with the Supreme Leader. Although he was left out of the conference, he had no doubt it as about whatever compelled Ren to bring the girl back to the Finalizer.  He looked back at her, there was something about her that had piqued Ren’s interest, and as such she just became of interest to him as well.

xxx-XXXXX-xxx

Kylo stood in the darkened briefing room as the projection of the Supreme Leader appeared.

“My Master” Kylo bowed his head.

“Apprentice, what is so urgent that it requires my attention.”

Kylo lifted his head “It is in regards to the explosion on Starkiller.”

“I was under the impression that the reactor failed and caused the damage,”

Kylo nodded, “Perhaps, however, a girl was found near the wreckage; she is not of the Order.”

Snoke leaned forward, “A spy then, from the Resistance?”

Kylo’s fist clenched, “I was unable to determine her origins or motives, Master, I could not read her.”

“Could not read her,” Snoke scoffed, “I know you are not that weak that a mere girl was able to resist you.”

Kylo fists clenched tighter at being called weak, “My Master she is not of the force.”

Snoke frowns, “Explain.”

“She holds no presence. I am unable to manipulate her mind or body through the force,” Kylo paused, “she exudes a nothingness, like a dead person, she feels almost like a void.”

Kylo watched Snoke’s expression become contemplative.

“Return to the Finalizer, I want a full work up on this girl, and I want answers to her origins, torture her if you must,” Snoke grits out.

“Yes, my Master,” Kylo bows his head as the projection disappeared and the room faded into darkness.

xxx-XXXXX-xxx

You stared at the excel spreadsheet as your fingers moved across the keyboard logging another department budget transfer, for a new IBM software. The sound of phones ringing and people talking too loud buzz throughout the office. You glanced at the clock noting it was almost two in the afternoon, and it was past time for your lunch. As you stood up, you quickly locked your computer before heading to the cafeteria. As you walked through the rows of cubicles, a gust of wind caused a chill to run up your spine. It felt like someone had opened a window. You turned around only to noticed that the office was now silent and empty.

Suddenly, you heard heavy breathing and a garbled clicking sound. As you turn back around a black-cloaked figure was standing at the end of the hallway. It looked like something straight from a horror movie.

You try to take a step back, but your body’s paralyzed, your breathing begins to escalate as a pain throbs on the side of your head. Suddenly the hulking figure is charging towards you, and a scream rips from your lips; you feel yourself falling until your face hits a hard surface.

Your eyes snap open, squinting at the blinding white light. You raise your face, blinking your eyes, trying to adjust to the lighting. As your vision refocuses, you quickly sit up. Your no longer in your office being stalked by the grim reaper; instead, you’re in a small metal room.

You place your hands on the metal bench jutting out from the wall; you realize you must have been having a nightmare and had rolled off the bench. As you push yourself up to stand a throbbing pain cripples you. Your hand touches your face only for you to hiss in pain as your fingers dance across your swollen eyebrow bone and knot on your forehead.

As the pain begins to dull, you remember what happened. You remember waking up in the hospital, running for your life through the snow, the grim reaper from your dreams dragging you through the snow-covered ground. You remember kicking and hitting him in the head, and then his fist coming toward our face.

“That fucker hit me in the face,” You yell out as anger wells in your chest, “that…that…that fucking dickhead.”

You look around your surroundings, it’s a tiny room, and everything is a shiny metal like stainless steel. The room is practically empty. It looked like a prison cell, except worst; no bed, no toilet, and no bars. If this was a prison cell, it wasn’t one that you’d find in America. Even in prison, convicts got blankets and pillows, and you were pretty sure the cells were bigger than what you were standing in. 

Your roaming eyes finally landed on an anomaly to the smooth walls of the room. On the adjacent wall, there was what looked like a bigger version of a mail slot. You touch the slot, pushing on it but it doesn’t give way. You run your hands along the other two walls trying to find a door seam. After several fruitless minutes, you give up. Frustrated, you kick the walls as a yell of anger escapes your lips. Just as you were about to start screaming at the top of your lungs, the slot opened.

“Present your hands.”

You stare at the slot wondering who’s on the other side. Is it the crazy doctor who tried to shoot you or is it the grim reaper wanting to punch you in the face again.

A bang on the wall startled you as the voice on the other side sounds off louder.

“Final warning, present your hands, or we will use force!”

The dull throb and splitting headache makes you shove your hands though the slot, not wanting to get hit again or worse. You feel a gloved hand roughly grab your hands before the feeling of restraints lock around your wrists.

“Step back and face the wall,” the voice on the other side commands as your hands were shoved back through the slot.

You follow the directions and face the wall with your back to the slot. You hear a whoosh, as you look over your shoulder, you see two people dressed in the white outfits you remember from before. The things you thought were robots were actual people.

One person was female, and the other was male, and they were both towered over you in height. The man stepped forward, grabbing the back of your shirt, walking you backward out of the room. You watched as the woman hits the panel on the side of the cell, the wall comes down fast like a guillotine and the panel color switches from red to green.

The man shoves you forward, and all three of you begin marching towards the end of the hall. You pass by similar doors all, but only a few had green lights. You assumed red meant that a person was inside.

As you reach the end of the hall, the female guard puts her hand to the panel, and the door opens, revealing an elevator. The woman enters first, then you get turned around, and the male guard makes you walk backward into the elevator.

You ride the elevator for a few moments until the doors open again. You are shoved forward down another hallway; as you get halfway down the hall, you are stopped before a room that has no doors. You watch as the woman adjusts her weird-looking gun before she grabs your shoulder and shoves you forward. As you walk in, there is a quick right turn, and the walls turn from metal to title. You round the corner again, and the room opens up into what looks like a community shower room.

You look at the rows of showers heads jutting out from the wall. There are no stalls or curtains; everything is out in the open. Clearly, the people who used these facilities didn’t care much about privacy. You are brought out of your thoughts as a small bag is shoved into your chest, and the cuffs are removed from your wrists. You clutched it looking at the contents through the clear baggy; it contained a washcloth and a small container of what looked like liquid soap.

“Undress and step forward to the black line, you have ten minutes.”

You watched as the woman stepped back to the far wall, her eyes, and gun trained on you. Realizing you were not going to get any privacy; you begin to remove your clothes, thankful that at least they had the decency to send in a female guard with you.

You removed the washcloth and soap, dropping the bag onto your pile of clothes. As you step forward onto the black line, the showerhead turns on, and lukewarm water rains down on all around you. You stifle a hiss as the small cuts on your body and the knot on your forehead are agitated by the water pressure. Opening the soap container, you realize it’s not much soap, so you quickly lather the rag and wash the most important parts of your body first.

“Five minutes!”

Hearing the woman’s time check you quickly undo the two braids in your hair running the soap though your hair and detangling the best you could with your fingers. After rinsing the soap from your hair, you quickly redid your braids just as the guard’s voice rings out again.

“Step back!”

You step back off the black line, and the shower cuts off, as you turn around a towel hits your face. A part of you wanted to cuss the bitch out, but you figured the last thing you needed right now was to get beat or shot while you were naked. As you were drying your face, something was shoved into your arms. You fumbled awkwardly trying not to drop everything onto the wet ground.

You look at the grey clothes and shoes in your hands; they remind you of scrubs and slip-on flats, you also notice black plain underwear but no bra. Did they expect you to walk around without a bra on? You looked for your old clothes so that you could put your sports bra back on, but the pile was nowhere in sight. You looked at the guard and saw the irritation on her face. Instead of escalating the situation, you quickly slip into the clothes and shoes given to you.

Once you were dressed, the woman re-cuffed you and guided back out into the hallway.

The man was still standing at the entrance; he quickly grips your shoulder and steers you back to the elevator. After a few more moments, you are pushed out into a different hallway, as you walk the hall you notice gurneys lining the walls, they must have taken you to their medical area.

As you turn the corner, you enter an open room. It looked like a normal exam room. Your eyes lock on the woman standing in a white uniform before they drifted to the tray next to the exam bed. The tray was covered in swabs, needles, and empty vials. You begin to take a step back fearing what these people were about to do to you; unfortunately, your guards blocked your retreat.

“Get on the exam table,” The male guard ordered as he held up a black baton. “Or we will make you scum.”

You resign yourself to what you hoped was just an exam as you slowly sit on the exam table. The woman, which you assumed was either a nurse or doctor began her exam. She took your temperature, a shit ton of blood, oral swabs, checked your eyes, ears, nose, and throat. By the time she was done you felt like you had just done your annual physical.

Once the exam was over the woman dismissed you back to the guards. They grabbed you up again and ushered you back to the elevator. After a quick stop to use the restroom, you ended up back at your cell.

After the door closed, you stared at the uncomfortable metal cot for a moment. You couldn’t stop the tears from pooling in your eyes, you were afraid and exhausted both mentally and psychically. You shuffled onto the cot as you laid down, wiping your eyes. You tuck your freezing hands between your legs to fight off the chill in the air.

You laid in silence as you stared at the wall, your mind running through all that you had been through. Eventually, the hum of the lights lulled you to sleep, as you wondered where you were and how the hell you were going to get out.

xxx-XXXXX-xxx

Kylo sat in the darkness of his quarters his eyes locked on his holo pad as he watched the girl. He looked at her as she wiped tears from her eyes as she laid down, curling into herself for warmth before drifting to sleep.

He had ordered the medics to run a full panel on her to check her physiology. He had received the first round of her reports; the results of her physiology showed no abnormalities. She was a normal human female.

However, the force had shown him she was anything but normal. His fist clenched in frustration; he was going to get the answers he needed out of her even if he had to dissect her like test subject.

Chapter Text

You jolt awake at the sound of a familiar buzz, lifting your head you see the small pouch and wrapped food bar lying on the floor beneath the slot in the door. The two items were not just your source of food but also a way for you to measure time. You were given a pouch of water and a flavorless food bar twice a day by your captors. Additionally, the amount of noise you heard outside the door gave you another indicator of the time. When things were noisier, you assumed it was day time, and when they were deathly quiet, you assumed it was nighttime. If your time assumptions were right the meal, they just dropped off was your breakfast.

You sighed as you got up to grab your food; this would be your ninth meal since you were allowed to shower. So, if your time markers were right, this was the start of day five in captivity.

However, now that you thought about it more, it could have been more than five days since you had been here. You didn’t know how long you had been unconscious, nor how long it has been since you had been dragged around in the snow by that behemoth in black. Your fingers gently touched the slowly fading knot on your forehead.

Just as you finished washing down the gritty bar, the sound of the slot opening again drew your attention.

“Present your hands.”

You stood instantly, eager to get out of the cell and hopefully get a chance to shower. You knew you smelled, five days without washing yourself was making you stir crazy. Maybe you could also convince them to give you toothpaste and a toothbrush. The film developing on your teeth was making you paranoid that cavities were about to form or had already formed.

As you stick your hands through the slot, you felt rough gloved hands secure your cuffs.

“Step back and face the wall,” the voice on the other side commanded.

You pulled your hands back, following the familiar directions as you faced the wall. At the sound of the door opening, you look over your shoulder to see three of the soldiers dressed in their white armor. However, unlike the previous time, their helmets were on, and you couldn’t tell if they were male or female.

One of the soldiers stepped forward, grabbing the back of your shirt, walking you backward out of the cell. As you were pulled out into the hallway, you watched as another soldier touched the panel closing the door once again. The colors on the panel screen, switching from red to green.

As you prepared to walk in the same direction as last time, you were pulled back and shoved in the opposite direction. After walking down twisting hallways, you found yourself ushered into a small room. The room had a stainless steel table as well as two chairs. Your guards quickly sit you at the table, still cuffed, before leaving you alone.

You sat in silence for what seemed like hours. Finally, the silence was disrupted as the door opened and in walked a pale skinned redhead dressed in a pristine looking black uniform. The way he held himself made it seem like he was born with a rod firmly planted in his ass. You watched as he sat down opposite you glaring like you somehow inconvenienced his day by your mere presence. Just as you are about to open your mouth to speak, he interjects.

“I'm sure by now you know why you’re here? Cooperate, and this will be easier for you.”

You look at him like he's crazy, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Excuse me?”

You slam your cuffed fists onto the table. “I said are you fucking kidding me! Of course, I don’t know why I'm here. You people assaulted and kidnapped me! I should fucking sue you assholes!”

“Kidnapped? We simply detained a trespasser and saboteur.”

“Trespasser? Saboteur? Hey pal, I just woke up here. I didn’t trespass or break anything! I was on a walk, and the next thing I know, I’m being chased, and then that behemoth punches me in the face, and I wake up in a goddamn prison cell!”

“I suggest you watch your tone with me. I am the General of the First Order, and I do not tolerate disrespect.”

“I don’t give a shit what you call yourself or your little militia group of weirdos. I’m a US citizen, and you can’t just detain me. I what the police here now!” You shout out, ready to jump out of your set in frustration.

“ A US citizen? I am not familiar with that designation.”

“Not familiar? What the hell do you mean? I’m a US citizen I was born in the United States of America.” You look at the redhead in confusion, watching his eyes narrow, unmoved by your raised voice, and growing distress.

“I have never heard if this United States of America. Are you some splinter group or faction of the Resistance.”

‘What the hell,’ you thought as you looked at the man in disbelief. He seemed dead serious when he said he hadn’t heard of America. You look around the room, was this some kind of sick joke. Did they reboot the TV show Punked? Who the hell doesn’t know what the US was?

“You seem confused; perhaps Ren hit you harder than I thought. I should rephrase myself. Where do you think you are?”

You look at the man completely lost, “Virginia?”

“And where is this Virginia located? I’m assuming you are from some small primitive village in the outer rim, though you do seem educated enough to speak Basic fluently.”

“Speak Basic? You mean English?” You correct as your mind tries to grasps everything that was happening.

“Is that what your people call the language you speak?”

“My people? That’s what everyone in the world calls it.” You snort out, beginning to think you really were on some reality show.

“And what world would that be?”

You let out an unamused laugh as you shake your head, looking at the man across the table, asking you stupid questions. “Is this some TV show? Or are you guys some weird-ass cult cut off from civilization? What do you mean, what world? Our world. You know Earth.”

You sit in silence as the man looks at you, scrutinizing your every feature. If he was in on this joke, he had one hell of a poker face; it was beginning to freak you out. Why was he questioning what planet you were on?

Just when you were about to ask him where he thought he was, the door slide open, and the black-cloaked figure from your nightmare came stalking into the room like a predator ready to kill.

x-x-x-XXXXX-x-x-x

Kylo disembarked from his ship, making his way out of the docking bay, having returned early from a mission with his Knights.

As he marched through the halls, troopers, officers, and technicians scurried out of his path like bugs. Any other day this would have amused him, but today his thoughts were occupied with the girl. Her lab work finally finished, and everything had come back normal. She was just some human girl. He had made the doctors run the tests three times, and each time yielded no new results.

At this juncture, he had grown impatient. He was done waiting. He was going straight to the source to get the answers he desired from the girl. As he stopped at the girls' cell, his eyes lingered on the green vacancy light. Anger welled in his chest. She was not in her cell, and he hadn't authorized her to be moved. She had been there sleeping when he last checked her feed while he was away.

As the trooper guarding the wing walked by, he stopped him in his tracks with the Force.

“Where is the prisoner that was in this cell?” Kylo bit out, trying to contain his slowly building anger.

“Sir, Commander R..Ren…she is in interrogation with General Hux.”

He felt his rage boil over at the thought of Hux interrogating his prisoner without his permission. He gripped the trooper tighter “Which room?”

“E….E66”

Kylo flung the trooper into the wall with a snarl as he marched down the hall toward the interrogation room.

x-x-x-XXXXX-x-x-x

Your eyes locked onto the masked man who just charged into the middle of your interrogation. He ignored you as he turned his attention to the redhead who looked unbothered at both his dramatic entrance and presence.

“Commander Ren, I see you’ve returned from your mission early.”

“Yes, General, I have, and I don’t remember permitting you to interrogate my prisoner.”

“Given the Supreme Leaders' urgency for answers, I felt the need to be proactive and take a hands-on approach, especially since your tests failed to yield useful results.”

You leaned back in your chair, watching the interaction between the two men awkwardly. You didn’t know either of them, but even in this brief little exchange, you got a suspicious feeling they didn’t like or respect one another. The masked man clenched his hand into a fist. He looked like he was ready to attack the smug-looking redhead. Just when you thought they were about to have a pissing contest, the masked man turned his attention to you.

You felt a shiver run down your spine. The guys' mask and overall presence gave you serial killer vibes.

“You will tell me what you are.”

“Huh,” You felt your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion.

You watched as he lifted his hand in your direction and repeated his question. You stared at his hand for a few moments in awkward silence. Before you looked back at the redhead whos smug look had disappeared and was replaced with a look of intrigue.

You turned your eyes back onto the man in the mask. He still had his hand outstretched toward you.

“Like dude, what are you doing?” You gestured to his outstretched hand.

 “Do you want a handshake or something?” You asked. He was starting to look silly, just standing there with his hand outstretched like that.

“Why are you immune?”

You watched as he clenched his hand into a fist and lowered to his side.

“Why can't I use the Force on you!”

You jump at the sudden influx in his voice. “I don’t know what you are you talking about you crazy fuck!”

You shot up out of your seat, as the table between you and your interrogators flew into the wall. You didn’t have time to even properly react to the table moving by itself before the masked man was marching toward you. You bumped into your chair as you stumbled backward. With a flick of his wrist, your chair crashed into the wall with a loud bang.

You yelped out in fear as the masked man grabbed you by the front of your shirt, shoving you into the wall. You felt your feet dangling off the ground momentarily before he let you drop. Just as your feet touched the ground, his obscenely large hand clamped painfully around your neck.

“Why are you resistant to the Force! Tell me what you are, or I will pry it out of you!”

“I don’t know….what you’re talking about, let go of me!”. You gasped out, feeling his gloved hand gripping your neck tighter while his other hand hovered near the side of your face. You felt your eyes water. You could hear the redhead faintly in the background, telling the man to release you.

In a last-ditch effort to shake his grip, you raised your knee and aimed for his groin. You heard a growl from behind the mask as your knee missed its target and connected with his thigh. You felt his grip around your neck loosen before you were thrown to the ground.

You quickly crawled away from him as you gasped for breath. You watched as he just stood there watching you, his posture slightly hunched like at any moment he was going to pounce on you again.

“Ren enough! She won't be able to speak if she's dead.”

You turned to look at the redhead, completely forgetting the man was still in the room. Given how close he was to the door, he might as well have left the room already. He clearly wasn’t about to voluntarily put himself in the path of the raging lunatic that almost choked you to death. You jump and let out a small scream as the masked man punched the wall before stomping out the room in a whirlwind of rage.

x-x-x-XXXXX-x-x-x

Armitage felt a frown morph onto his face as Ren stomped out of the interrogation room. He knew his technicians would be scrambling to repair whatever Ren was about to take his anger out on. He looked back at the woman. She was still on the ground holding her neck with tears in her eyes.

Although he was angry with Rens’ interruption, he was positive that she would be more forthcoming given her newly petrified state. He casually sat back down in his chair, glancing briefly at the overturned table. The woman had just become even more interesting to him. Ren’s outburst about her being immune to the Force had piqued his curiosity. However, he would have to explore that line of questioning another day. He needed more information on the woman and the planet she called Earth.

“Shall we continue. I would like to know more about this planet you call Earth.”

After a few more hours of interrogation, he was reeling. He now had more questions than he did answers. Hux marched down the hall towards his office, ignoring his underlings greeting him. He needed to contact the Supreme Leader immediately.

If the woman was telling him the truth, then his scientist on Starkiller had inadvertently discovered something beyond remarkable. The First Order was now in possession of knowledge that could shake the very foundation of the entire Galaxy.

Chapter Text

Kylo felt his breathing beginning to calm as he stared at the smoldering panel. His rage had gotten the best of him. The girl had resisted the Force. Resisted him. He felt as if he were some powerless padawan in training again. Had she not distracted him when she tried to kick him in the groin again, he would have choked the life from her in a fit of frustration.

“I apologize for interrupting Commander Ren.”

Kylo whipped around watching the officer jump in fear, “What!”

“The…The Supreme Leader and General Hux are requesting your presence in the communication bridge.”

Kylo sighed out in frustration as he rushed past the Officer purposely bumping his shoulder as he marched towards the communication room. After making his way across the ship, he stormed into the communication room, seeing Hux standing at attention, waiting for Snoke to appear.

“Why have you summoned the Supreme Leader?” Kylo demanded, tilting his head slightly as he came to a standstill next to him.

“You’ll soon find out.”

Kylo clenched his fist at the smug look on the man’s face.

The hall illuminated, and they both turned forward, facing the hologram projection of the Supreme Leader, kneeling as they greeted Snoke.

“Why have you summoned me, General.”

Hux stood, correcting his posture “Supreme Leader, it’s about the trespasser from Starkiller. There have been some interesting developments.”

Kylo rose t his feet glancing at Hux, wondering what kind of developments had occurred. When he had left the interrogation room the girl was on the floor, crying and gasping for air. What could she have possibly told Hux that warranted Snoke’s immediate attention.

x-x-x-XXXXX-x-x-x

You stare at the wall, numbness radiating over your whole body. You felt completely disconnected from your surroundings. Nothing made sense. The tears had yet to stop flowing from your eyes fully. After the man in black had stormed out of the room the redhead had kept asking you bizarre questions. What planet were you from? What system were you located in? What galaxy are you located in? Following your interrogation and assault, the men in white armor had dragged you back to your cell when the redhead was done with you.

Now here you were back in your cell confused and still with no clue as to where you were. You were almost positive that the people who held you captive were a part of some crazy off the grid militia group or cult. Given the throbbing pain still in your neck, they weren’t afraid to use violence. You shuttered at what else they would do to you.

You felt the tears begin to sting your eyes again as you curled into yourself for comfort on the bench. Closing your eyes tight, you hoped someone had seen them abducted from the hiking trail and had called the police. Your thoughts turned dark as a frightening notion crept to the forefront of your mind. If you didn’t find a way to escape these strange people soon, you could very well end up murdered or worse.

x-x-x-XXXXX-x-x-x

Hux watched in silence as Snoke processed the new information he had collected from the prisoner.

“That’s impossible.”

Hux eyed Ren out the corner of his eyes. “Improbable but not impossible. The science that has gone into building the reactor and honing the weapon is unstable and unpredictable. Often yielding results that not even our scientist can fully explain.”

“And you think she came from some far-away Galaxy, foolish,” Kylo questioned in sarcastic disbelief.

Hux scoffed at Ren, “Whether you think it foolish or not, it certainly does provide an answer as to how she ended up in a sealed reactor room unscathed as the other occupants where vaporized in the blast.”

“Enough!”

Hux turned his attention back to Snoke, ignoring Ren.

“General, do you truly believe the girls' accounts. Do you not think she is cable of lying to preserve her life?”

“Capable of lying, of course, however…,” Hux side-eyed Ren  “…thanks to your apprentice’s heavy-handed tactics. I don’t believe she was in the state of mind to make up such a lie. Additionally, the clothing and devices we found on her person were things we have never seen before.”

Hux watches Snoke’s contemplative look. He seemed deep in thought.

“Bring the girl to me. I wish to see her myself. If what she says is true, General, we will have much to discuss afterward. I am impressed with your ability to get answers from her. Perhaps my Apprentice should look to you for guidance in the future.”

As Snoke’s hologram disappears, Hux smirked, savoring the fact that the Supreme Leader had just praised him over his precious Apprentice.

x-x-x-XXXXX-x-x-x

Kylo sat hunched over on his bed, mulling over Hux’s theory of the girls’ origin. He was irritated that Snoke had praised Hux over him. He thought the entire situation was ridiculous. Clearly, the girl was lying. The likelihood of her been transported from an uncharted world let alone another galaxy during the explosion was preposterous. He was quite frankly shocked Snoke was entertaining the ludicrous idea.

Frustrated Kylo grabbed his datapad and turned on the surveillance feed of the girls’ cell. He zoomed in on her prone sleeping form. She didn’t look like an alien from another galaxy, she looked like an ordinary human. If she had been some kind of humanoid alien the tests he ran would have shown genetic anomalies.

His eyes narrowed, a thought occurring to him that sounded more plausible than her being from another galaxy. He had read of highly skilled Force-sensitives who could mask their presence by blending into the very fabric of their surroundings, like camouflage. If he remembered correctly it was called Force Concealment. A skilled user could essentially mask their Force alignment or even their entire presence from other Force-sensitives.

He clenched the datapad as a hole in his theory sprang forth. Force concealment would make sense if she were merely masking her presence, but the girl wasn’t masked into her surroundings, she was completely absent from it.  An individual capable of erasing themselves from the very fabric of existence would be beyond highly skilled. His uncle and grandfather could probably not even attempt such a feat.

He glared at the girls sleeping form. Could Snoke be thinking the same thing? That the girl was a force-sensitive attempting to hide. Is that why he demanded the girl be brought to him so that he could test her himself. If the Supreme Leader determined she was, in fact, a force user, he would not dispose of such a clearly powerful asset. His jaw clenched, would Snoke toss him aside and train the girl in his place.

The thought of being cast aside and replaced sent white-hot anger through his veins. He stood, throwing the pad across the room ignoring the shattering of the device as he marched out of his room. He would go down to her cell and finish what he started. If he could not use the force on her, he would resort to beating her until she told him everything he wanted to know. Maybe then, when she was withering in pain beneath him, she would reveal herself.

His steps slowed to a halt as common sense broke through his anger. If he damaged or killed her before her meeting with the Supreme Leader, he would face Snoke’s wrath. His hands were tied, and he felt powerless. Anger and the utter feeling of stagnation began to well up inside of him. His hand twitched at his side before ripping the lightsaber from his belt. Red light and a dull hum filled the hall as he began to purge his aggression.

x-x-x-XXXXX-x-x-x

FE-3109 stopped in his tracks as he and SW-2201 rounded the corner on their security rounds. They both came to a standstill seeing the Commander once again destroying First Order property in a fit of rage. He looked back at SW-2201, they nodded to one another before pivoting on their feet and heading back the way they came.

Chapter Text

You frowned as you quickly pulled the grey shirt over your head. You had once again been removed from your cell to shower and given a new set of clothes. However, just like last time, you were still not provided a bra. Either they didn’t like to expense too many resources on prisoners, or they were a bunch of perverts you weren’t sure which one it was yet.

You had expected to be taken back to your cell after your shower, but the guards in white armor had led you somewhere else.  You had been marched down hallways up ramps and down more hallways and ramps till finally, you ended up in an open area. It looked like a hanger of some sort. The floor lined with rows of odd-looking airplanes, some big some smaller. The sheer size of the area, making you believe more and more that your kidnappers had at some point during your unconsciousness, taken you out of the country. Given what you had seen so far, the sheer size of the facility would be something that wouldn’t go unnoticed by authorities.  

As the guards moved you further into the hanger, you watched people in maintenance overalls scurry back and forth. Before you could take in any more details of your surroundings, you were directed forward towards a black aircraft. As you neared, familiarity began to dawn on you. The craft was the same plane you had seen in the snow before that neanderthal knocked you unconscious. The unforgettable slick black exterior with its wings pointed up, the shape almost reminding you or an origami crane.

“Why is she still out here? Secure her for transport.”

Your reminiscing abruptly interrupted as a familiar modulated voice rang out. You jerked your head to see the man in all black heading your way.

“Yes, Commander. At once.”

Before you could look at him any further, your guards tightened their hold on your biceps and hurried you forward up the ramp and into the plane. As you entered, you noticed that you weren’t alone, there were already people on board — at least ten of them all in their white armor with matching helmets on. You could see their heads turn and watch as you as you were led forward towards the cockpit, and seated in a random spot away from the others. The guards put your safety belt on before securing your hands and ankles in restraints. After they finished, they saluted the man in black before handing him the key to your shackles and departing the plane quickly.

Your eyes drifted around the plane, taking in the odd interior. It looked nothing like any plane you had ever been on. As you were mapping out the plane's features, you were distracted as the man in black sat directly across from you. You can’t help but stare, taking in his appearance for the first time. He was tall, definitely over 6 feet, although he had broad shoulders and a wide chest, he didn’t seem overly muscular.

His outfit reminded you of some medieval renaissance ensemble. But what drew your attention was the mask he wore. The chrome lining stood out in stark contrast against the black background of the mask and hood. Although it was quite menacing to look at, you couldn’t help but think wearing it was impractical. After all, you were pretty sure it obscured his vision and hindered neck movements. You could imagine that all a person had to do was hit him on the head, the echoing within the helmet would be enough to disorient him long enough to strike back or at least runaway.

You couldn’t help the smile and laugh that came out your mouth at the thought of someone dropping a big boulder or ACME anvil on his head like an old Looney Tunes. The man had been looking at you too and didn’t appreciate your reaction. Because as soon as the laugh left your lips, he sprang out of his seat and lunged at you. He gripped your jaw, his large hand covering the lower half of your face as his fingers dug painfully into your flesh.

You tried to pull back, but all he did was shove your head into the headrest of the seat. You raised your leg to kick him only for his other hand to grip your knee and shove your leg back down. Then he stepped on your other legs' foot to hold it in place too. Effectively trapping your extremities and preventing any means of retaliation.

Your breath hitched in your throat as his face leaned closer, the hand on your mouth, moving down to clench your neck.

“Make no mistake girl, you are only temporally spared my wraith, but the second you are deemed unnecessary...”

You grit your teeth as his grip tightens around your neck.

“…I will snap your neck, and I don’t need the force to do that.”

“Let her go, Ren.”

You glance towards the voice. It was the redhead from your interrogation. He stood ramrod straight, arms behind his back, as he stared down the man in black with a look of impatience. The grip on your knee and neck tightened again, drawing your attention back to the mask that was still hovering uncomfortably close to your face. After a few more silent moments, his grip left you as he straightened up to his full height and stood back.

“You’d be wise not to tempt me again, girl.”

‘Wise not to tempt him. Again?’ you repeated in your head. You frowned you hadn’t done anything to him to deserve his hostile reaction. Your hatred for this man, if one could even call him that, grew with every unpleasant encounter. You knew it was foolish, but your anger and pride overrode your common sense, and the words waiting on your tongue tumbled out your mouth.

“I’m a woman, not a girl. In case you’re too stupid to see that, boy.”

At first, you thought you had gotten away with your little show of rebellion and disrespect as the man seemed to not react to your correction and insult. That notion was quickly rectified as a gloved hand, backhanded you across the face. Had you not been secured to your seat, you were sure the force of the strike would have knocked you to the ground.

Your vision swam as pain radiated through your face. The coppery taste of blood flooded your mouth from your bitten tongue and cheek. The pain and taste of blood quickly reminding you of your circumstances and that these people weren’t afraid to use violence, especially the man before you. You cradled your cheek to try and soothe the pain, turning your head and eyes away from the man.

x-x-x-XXXXX-x-x-x

Kylo still felt his anger and frustration from the previous day bubbling under the surface. He had spent the night trying to meditate and stem his anger. Only to realize halfway in it wasn’t working. It was just causing him to focus more on the girl. He finally gave up trying to meditate before turning on his new datapad to monitor the prisoner. He had hoped to catch her doing something that would reveal her secrets. But all he ending up doing was watching her sleep until he succumbed to sleep himself.

As he marched into the hanger, he hoped that after this visit, the Supreme Leader would deem her useless and let him kill her. As he made his way toward the Command Shuttle, he saw the girl. Kylo watched her as she looked around the hanger awe-inspired as if she had never seen shuttles and fighter crafts before. Having had enough of her sightseeing, he raised his voice to get the guards attention; they weren’t moving fast enough, the girl should have already been on the shuttle.

“Why is she still out here? Secure her for transport.” He watched as they all jumped at the sound of his voice. The girl being the only one to turn and look at him before the guards hastily dragged her aboard the shuttle.

As he followed behind them, he could sense the curiosity of the troopers on board as they wondered who the girl was. He stood back, watching as the guards put her in a seat away from the other troopers. After they finished securing her, they handed him the key to her restraints before saluting him and practically running off the shuttle. He watched as her eyes drifted around the shuttle, taking in her surroundings. He decides to sit down in the seat directly across from her so he could observe her during the flight. He can see her eyes looking him over, accessing him. His hands clench in frustration. He would like nothing more than to use the Force and pry into her mind. However, for some reason, she was resistant to the Force, and all he can do is sit and wonder what she is thinking.

As he watches her, he tries to read her facial expressions; most people either looked at him in utter fear or avoided eye contact. However, as she sat there staring at him, her facial cues gave nothing away. Then something surprising happened. She smiled and laughed.

Kylo felt his face and ears heat; if it weren’t for the mask, everyone on the shuttle would be able to see his flushed face. He felt his body tense even more. She was mocking him, laughing at him. No one laughed at him. Before he could control himself, he lunged at the girl and grabbed her face.

She tries to kick him again, but he grips her knee and shoves her leg down before stepping on her other foot to keep her still. He leans into her face, enjoying the look of fear in her eyes as he grabs her neck.

“Make no mistake, girl, you are only temporally spared my wraith, but the second you are deemed unnecessary...,” He trials off gripping her neck tighter in emphasis, “I will snap your neck, and I don’t need the force to do that.”

“Let her go, Ren” He intentionally avoids acknowledging Hux as the girls' eyes shift to look at the General. He sees a brief glimmer of relief in her iris’s as she looks at Hux. ‘Fool’ he can’t help but think to himself, finding it almost amusing that she felt safer with Hux nearby. She clearly hadn’t seen the Generals other side yet.

He gripped her neck harder until her eyes were back on him. Once he is sure she understands not to disrespect him, again, he releases his hold and stands back.

“You’d be wise not to tempt me again, girl.” He threatens once more for good measure. He expected her to stand down; however, he sees her fear melt to confusion than to anger.

“I’m a woman, not a girl. In case you’re too stupid to see that, boy.”

He at first, he is taken aback by her boldness. He can feel the stillness in the air. Not only had Hux heard her insult, but so had the troopers. The girl had corrected him and insulted his intelligence and manhood. He reacts before thinking. He watches her head roll to the side as he strikes her across the face.

When she finally got her bearings, he could see her trying to keep her blood in her mouth. She must have bitten her tongue as a result of the blow. He finds it fitting; maybe she will think to hold it next time before speaking do flippantly to him. As he takes his seat once again, he relishes in how fear creeps back over her, and she refuses to look at him.

x-x-x-XXXXX-x-x-x

After what seemed like hours, you felt a familiar jolt, and the dimmed lights of the cabin flickered back to full capacity. You blink rapidly, letting your eyes readjust to the lights as the ramp opens. The majority of the people in armor disembark the plane, all but one man remains. The redhead speaks to him briefly before he approaches you. He quickly unfastens your safety belt and pulls you to your feet. The shackles that bind you are heavy and obstructive. You look at the man in black as he rises from his seat; you hold your hands out, expecting him to remove your bindings. However he ignores you, intentionally brushing past your outstretched hands, and exits the plane his cape billowing behind him. The guard says nothing as he gripes your arm and tugs you toward the ramp.

You get a brief look around as you exit the plane, the area looks the same as the one from before only bigger. The guard follows Ren and the redhead, ushering you down hallways and up ramps until you are brought before large doors. Giants in weird red armor guard the doors. You subconsciously take a step back as the doors open by themselves. The redhead dismisses the guard who escorted you before the man in black roughly grabs you chains and drags you forward, pulling you into the room. The walls are lined with more giant guards dressed in red. You yelp as you are yanked forward again, the strength of the jerk causing you to lose your balance and fall to the floor.

You push yourself up onto your hands and knees, turning to yell at the man in black. However, your anger morphs into confusion as you see him bent on one knee with his head bowed. You turn to your left and see the redhead in the same position. Before you can ask them what they are doing, a deep voice echoes through the room.

“Rise.”

You turn back around in time to see a giant in a gold dress ascend to a very intricate looking throne. As the old man takes his seat, two of the guards carrying deadly looking pikes stand at attention on each side of the throne.

Too stunned, you barely notice both Ren and the redhead are now standing from there kneeling position as you remain on the floor. The man looks inhuman, his head is deformed, and his face is scarred over like he’s a burn victim. When his beady eyes land on you, your heart thumps in your chest; everything about him rubs you the wrong way. His stare makes you want to get up and make a run for it.

“So, you are the girl I have heard so much about.”

Chapter Text

“So, you are the girl I have heard so much about.”

The voice slithers through the throne room, cold and commanding.

You remain frozen. Hands and knees pressed to the polished floor. A shiver climbs your spine. The sound echoes off towering pillars and gleaming walls, each syllable reverberating like a threat. Your gaze wandered taking in the room and its occupants.

The environment was sterile and reflective. Bathed in a sinister red glow. Everything converges on the jagged, obelisk-like throne at the center—where a grotesque giant sits, twisted and still, his gaze drilling into you.

Your mouth goes dry. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears and pounds in your chest. The chill in the air, the weight of his intense gaze was making you wish you were back in your tiny cell. The cramped room was beginning to feel a lot safer in comparison to where she was now.

A raspy chuckle breaks the silence. Your panic induced existential trance is broken when the man in golden robes leans forward, his voice dripping with disdain.

“So petrified. I do not need the force to see your fear. Stand up girl and stop quivering like a coward.”

You wanted to scoff at the man for calling you a coward. You’re surrounded by kidnapping cultist psychopaths and a giant deformed monster—what sane person wouldn’t be terrified?

Before you have a chance to comply pain explodes at the back of your scalp. A hand grabs the back of your shirt as well as some of your hair pulling painfully. Dragging you upright and forcing you to your feet.

“The Supreme Leader ordered you to stand!”

You twist, teeth clenched. “Let go of me, you ass!”

You wince in pain as he pulls tighter on purpose before letting go. You glare up at him. Although his body is facing forward his masked covered head is facing towards you. The blood red glow of the room reflecting on the silver trim around perimeter of where his eyes lay. You itch to lash out, wishing to kick him between his legs again but a grumbled choking sound interrupts your thoughts.

You turn back around realizing why the man in the mask had let you go. The old man had risen from his throne and was standing with his hand outstretched, beady eyes staring at you.  A look of dissatisfaction overcoming his face.

“How peculiar”

You try to hold back your confusion at his weird hand gesture. You freeze. That gesture—it’s the same one the masked man made before he snapped and attacked. The intensity of his stare making you feel like his was trying to look inside your very soul. The second’s stretch, then he lowers his arm and sinks back into his throne, scowl deepening and overtaking his disfigured face.

“She will wait outside. We have much to discuss.”

Before you could comprehend what was happening you were being pulled back though the door you came through by the man in black. You glance over your shoulder. Although a part of you wanted to stay since they were clearly going to be discussing you, a bigger part of you was grateful to get away from the freaks and their disfigured leader.

As you both pass the threshold of the door the man roughly shoved you out into the hallway.

“Subdue her if she causes a disturbance.”

You glare at his back as he pivots on his heels, his cape flaring behind him.

The heavy doors groan shut, sealing you out and silence over takes the hallway.

xxxxXXXXXxxx

You glance at the two guards in white armor. They had not moved or even made any indication that they had heard his command. A part of you wondered if they were even real with how still they remained.

You glanced down the corridor, it wasn’t that long of a hallway, if you ran fast enough maybe you could get enough distance between yourself and the guards to make an escape. If you could make it out of the cult’s compound you could flag down a normal person and have them, call the cops to save you from wherever you are.

You looked back at the guards. The clunky armor they wore didn’t seem very aerodynamic or agile. Your leg restraints had been removed while you were in their weird plane but they had left your hands shackled.

Although the restraints where weighty they weren’t heavy to the point of immobility. You glance once more down the hallway before looking down at the ground. You decided this was your chance. While the leaders are distracted behind closed doors, you’ll make your moved. You just needed to give them a false sense of security, make a distraction of some sorts and then you’d bolt.

As you stared at the floor your eyes honed in on the slacked chain that connected your arm restraints. The slightly weighted chain was about to be your way out.  Before you had time to second guess yourself you gripped the chains slack and swung it with all your strength into the helmet of the guard nearest to you. A sickening crack echoes through the corridor as he stumbles sideways into the second guard. You don’t wait to see the damage. Your feet are already flying down the hallway, adrenaline surging, shouts and grunts erupting behind you.

xxxXXXXXxxx

Kylo stands rigid, arms crossed, listening as General Hux spins a tale that borders on fantasy of dimensional travel. Insanity. A human, let alone an unremarkable girl, being capable of teleportation from an unknown world and perhaps an unknown galaxy was preposterous.

“I request the opportunity to explore my theory, Your Excellency,” Hux says, voice smooth. “The Commander’s methods have failed. I believe a more prudent approach is necessary. If proven, this could benefit the Order in unimaginable ways.”

Kylo’s fingers twitch near his side. The insult stings. His hand itched to yank his lightsaber from its holster and slice the petulant bureaucrat in twain.

“Do you object, my apprentice?”

Kylo breathes deep, suppressing the urge to strike Hux down.

“I do. The General’s notion is foolhardy. I believe the girl to be a highly skilled force sensitive. One who’s been trained to hide and infiltrate our ranks. At worst she is parasite of the new republic and their resistance allies and at best she’s an unaligned user of the force who could grow to be a threat to the Order. She should be eliminated, not embraced.”

Hux scoffs. “Of course your brashness calls for destruction. Even if my theory is wrong, wouldn’t it be wise to understand how she exists beyond your reach? What if her ability is learned? If the Resistance harnesses it, they could become impervious to the Force.”

“Exactly why she should be eliminated,” Kylo snaps. “Her existence is a threat!”

Hux smirks. “To the Order—or to you?”

Kylo growled stepping into Hux’s personal space. Eyes blazing as Hux flinches.

“Enough!” The Supreme Leader’s voice cuts through the tension.

Kylo stared Hux down before backing away and adhering to his masters’ orders.

“I have decided. The girl will remain in both of your charge, pending further investigation into this matter. General you will gather and report to me all information you collect on her origins.”

Kylo clenched his fist, angered at his master choosing to keep the girl around.

“As for you my apprentice you will test your abilities on her. I want to know why she is cut off from us, from the force. If she is as you claim, a user of the force, only one man has the ability to have trained her. If so, then she may be the key to lure your former master out of hiding and the Order can eliminate its biggest threat once and for all.”

Kylo’s fists clench even tighter.

“You both are dismissed.”

Kylo kneeled in tandem with Hux as they watched their leader rise from his throne, flanked by his guards exit the throne room.

Kylo rose slowly from his position. Thoughts of Skywalker permeating his psyche. The sorrow, the betrayal, the rage. All festered inside of him as he thought of his old master. If Luke was responsible for sending this girl into his mists. If she was his weapon, then there would be no lengths he would not go to in order to find him and end him once and for all.

He turns sharply, cape sweeping behind him, and marches toward the door. Hux keeping stride with him.

As doors to the throne room opened his eyes narrowed in irritation.

In front of him and Hux stood a scene of commotion.

A stormtrooper with a cracked helmet is being berated by an officer. Five others stand by. Two officers frantically tap at data pads. Even though all of the chaos he noticed one very glaring detail.

Kylo scans the hall. His whole-body tense with anger as he stomps towards the nearest officer, lifting him off the ground. His jaw locking as rage overtook his mind.

“Where is she!”

Chapter Text

You sprint through the sterile corridor, breath ragged, adrenaline burning through your veins. No pursuit. Either your ambush had done more damage than expected—or those guards were laughably incompetent.

At the hallway’s end, you slow, hugging the wall as you peer around the corner. Seeing no one in the hall you continue forward. Testing every door you pass. Locked. Locked. Locked. Each failed attempt tightens the knot in your chest. You're running out of options.

Another corner. You peer around the corner again making sure the coast is clear.  You pause, scanning the split ahead—three paths: left, right, and straight. The right hall is shorter. You edge forward, then freeze. Voices. Footsteps. You crouch low, creeping toward the central opening. Inside: a mess hall. Black-uniformed figures hunched over trays, eating. You recoil instantly, heart hammering. A chrome sign catches your eye as you retreat: D-Hall C Unit.

You back away from what was more than likely a mess hall. You look to your left and then your right, choosing to go down the shorter hall on the right. As you turn the corner you see a sealed door. You move toward it hoping it would open. You shove, pull, slam your fists against it. Nothing. You curse under your breath, turning back—then halt. More voices. You flatten against the wall, waiting until they pass. Another glance: more guards entering the mess hall. You strain to hear. Silence. You move.

Once you felt it was clear you hurried down the hall. At the end of the hall was nothing but a staircase going down. You crouch at the top, listening. No movement. You hesitate. It didn’t seem like you were in a house, it had to be some kind of massive multi-storied building. Down must mean ground level. And ground level means escape.

You take the first step, freezing as a blaring beeping sound erupted. After the beep a voice echoed out “Code 8787 – All Personnel report to your command”.

The message and the beeping continue. You hear commotion behind you, no doubt coming from the people who had just been eating. With no time to second guess yourself, you rush down the stairs. As you reached the last step you look around and see just one opening.

You make your way through the threshold—and stop. A vast labyrinth opens before you. Grated walkways stretch in every direction, some lining the walls, others crisscrossing overhead. You glance up—floors upon floors. You glance down—it seemed you were closer to the bottom than the top. Directly across from you was a walkway that led to a door and to your left was a ramp that went down. The lighting was dimmer than in the hall way. You were barely able to see all the way down but it did not look like the ground was too far down.

You hesitate before moving straight across the walkway. If the door on the other side didn’t open, you would double back and go down. As you were midway across the walkway another alarm blares—three deafening pulses you cover your ears. You watched as the lights above you slowly began to shut off moving down the room like a cascading black out. Soon you were plunged into darkness.

After a few moments the darkness was illuminated by soft faint yellow lights. The dimness reminded you of the safety lights in movie theaters. Enough light to barely see the floor under your feet but not enough to illuminate your surroundings. You cautiously made your way to the door. Just like every other door you tried it was sealed.

“Shit” You curse under your breath as you turn around to go back.

Halfway across the walkway you come to an abrupt stop.  Two guards in white armor block your path. A third enters—taller, chrome-plated, a cape draped over their shoulders.

“Escapee.” the voice smooth, feminine, and cold echoed out.

“Surrender now or expect brutality.”

You inch backwards as she slowly stepped forward. You begin to panic not sure how to escape when the door behind you was sealed. Your thoughts are interrupted as the alarm blares again. The sound of hissing permeates through the room before the faint yellow safety lights fade.

The door behind the guards’ hisses before shutting and the only light in the room is snuffed out. A faint incessant beep can be heard and the sound of metal scraping and sliding sounds in the dark. You feel a faint breeze behind you hearing heavy footfalls before the sound of grating sliding metal sounds again.

The beeping stops abruptly before blood red light illuminates the room. The guards are still in front of you. Cast in equal parts darkness and red light. You watch as the tall chrome guard as well as the guards in white straighten their posture and halt their advance.

You tense as you come to the realization that they are now directing their attention behind you. You swallow the lump in your throat. Licking your dry lips as you slowly crane your head over your shoulders. You see him. Even in the red haze, he’s darker than the shadows around him.

He steps forward his heavy steps on the walkway making the grate rattle under your own feet. He moves forward into view spawning from the darkness like a demon bathed in low red light.

As a sense of dread overtakes your body the word slips out before you can stop it.

“Damn”

xxxxXXXXxxx

Kylo Ren stormed through the gleaming corridors of the Supremacy, his cape billowing like smoke behind him. General Hux trailed close, rattling off protocols and containment procedures, but Kylo didn’t hear a word. His fury drowned out everything.

A chained girl—frail, unarmed—had overpowered two guards and escaped. The fact clawed at his psyche like a parasite.

Yet, despite her defiance, the Supreme Leader had ordered she be kept alive. Studied. Preserved. Kylo clenched his fists. Every second she remained free was a personal affront. Her tenacity, her refusal to break, fighting even when she had no chance of victory stirred memories he’d buried deep.

The notion of the girl being an agent of Skywalker or the Resistance was slowly solidifying itself in his mind. Her will to keep fighting was reminding him of memories of Luke, of his father, of his mother. Of that cursed word.

Hope.

That illusion his enemies clung to like children clutching broken toys. The belief that courage could triumph over power. That they would not fail. That they would not fall. That light could survive in the shadow of fear

‘Pathetic’ he sneered to himself.

As he rounded the corner, he marched into the security wing. Without hesitation, he seized the nearest officer by the throat.

“There’s an escaped prisoner on board,” he growled, flinging the man toward the control console. “Find her.”

Technicians scrambled, rewinding surveillance feeds under Hux’s direction. Kylo watched the screen, eyes narrowing as the footage played.

They watched in silence as the feed showed him putting her out of the throne room. He watched her stand there, watching the door close. She looked defeated and small in comparison to the troopers standing guard.

He watched as she eyed in her surroundings subtlety. Then finally he sees the moment when ‘hope’ took a hold of her soul. In an instant, she attacked the guards, smashing one in the face with her restraints before taking off into a full run.

Had she not been such a menace, he would have found her attack and subsequent escape commendable. They watched as she bolted down hallways, trying her damnedest to escape. Lunging at every door she came across in desperation. Finally, they watched as she made her way into one of the officer mess halls.

He watched as she made sure to clear the hallways before bolting into the room. After she realized the dining hall was not her way out, they then watched as she tried to take the lift for before realizing she could not open it.

It was like watching a rodent in the maze. She finally doubled back and made her way downward. He knew where she would wind up. The stairs would lead her down into the bowls of the sub deck. The only thing there was the coolant pond and the forward port cargo bay.

He turned on his heels leaving the room, stopping at the sound of Hux's voice.

“Phasma has been dispatched to collect her. She will remain alive Ren.”

Kylo paused briefly, before ignoring the General and directing his attention to the security officer.

“Funnel her into the rafters of the coolant Bay. Kill the primary lights and slow her down."  He didn’t wait for a reply, he pivoted on his feet and marched out of the room, leaving Hux behind.

His little swamp rat thought she was escaping. But she was being herded.

Like a rodent in a maze - and at the end of it, she wouldn’t find freedom.

She’d find him.

Chapter Text

Phasma made her way into the coolant bay rafters, following the General's command as to the location of an escaped prisoner. The situation was an embarrassment—her troopers had failed to contain a chained, untrained girl. And now it was her responsibility to clean up their mess.

Phasma listened as her comms crackled within her helmet. The prisoner’s location had been confirmed. She listened as the general issued emergency shutdown of the entire coolant bay. She ushered her troopers forward as they made their way into the rafters.

As the primary lights dim, you hear the footsteps of the prisoner. You make your way to the front, staring down the prisoner. Your agitation seeping out as the frail and short woman stood before you. Embarrassment briefly filling your chest at the notion your trained troopers were outwitted by such a sorry excuse for a threat.

The hissing of hydraulics sounds off as the chamber was sealed. No escape.

“Escapee,” Phasma’s voice rang out, cold and metallic. “Surrender or expect brutality”

The girl stumbled back, eyes wide. Phasma didn’t flinch.

You stare her down as the security lights switch off and the whole room is plunged into darkness. You listen as the adjacent door slides open in the dark. Hearing heavy footsteps. echoing on the grates before the door slides shut again. You straighten your posture, knowing of only one person who can open a hydraulic door without electrical power.

The room is illuminated red. As you peer past the escapee, you see the Commander Emerged from the shadows. You stand at attention, watching in silence as the escapee turns to see the person behind her.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

You stare at him

The masked figure stands motionless, framed in blood-red light, a phantom of silence. The air feels thick, heavy with dread. Unnerved by his presence, you take a step back from him in fear. Instinct overriding reason—then your foot slips.

A gasp escaping your lips as you misstep and slip from the walkway. You fall, hitting the walkway with your chest. You reach out clinging to the metal grated floor the best you can to prevent from falling into the darkness below.

You watch as the guards in white and chrome approach, seemingly moving to grab you from falling over the edge, only to be halted by the man in black holding his hand up.

You’re dangling now, barely holding on. The restraints bite into your wrists. You can feel yourself slipping as your hands strain to get a hold of the metal grate beneath your fingers. You look up. His boots are inches from your face. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just watches. He stands there in silence, staring down at you. You look to the guards, realizing they were not going to save you from you falling off the walkway and more importantly they weren’t going to save you from him.

As you clung to the walkway. Two choices dawned on you. You either beg and plead for help from the man who had been so cruel and violent with you since you awoke to this hellscape. Or you let go and risk falling to your death in the darkness below.

Your jaw tightens as every moment of violence and cruelty you suffered since awakening played through your head. Evey encounter that you have had with this man always ending violently. You were not going to keep being hurt by this maniac anymore. Your resolve is swift. In your mind, you decided you rather fall into the unknown below than let this man, this monster, above you, drag you off again.

You look back up at him. You see him stiffen. You know he knows what you just decided in your mind. Your facial expression most assuredly is giving you away.

A growl rumbles from his chest as he lunges forward to stop you but you’ve already let go.

You feel air rushing past you as you fall. Even though you know what was to come an involuntary scream ripped through your mouth. Surrounded by darkness and dim red lights. You clinch your eyes and prepare for the pain of death.

However instead of the pain of hitting a hard surface that you had anticipated. You are startled as you're consumed by water. You open your eyes frantically as you inhale, choking. You scramble trying to get your bearing. You see the red light above you and you kick as hard as you can upward towards the red light, the restraints tangling around you.

You scream out as you breached the surface of the water, inhaling sharply as water and air mix with your lungs. You flail around coughing, phlegm and mucus expelling from your body as you struggle to breathe. Giddiness overtakes you as you realize you're alive.

You frantically wipe the water from your face, looking around your surroundings, turning in the pool of water spitting and coughing. Finally, you see a light in the corner about 50 yards in front of you. The dim light from the doorway illuminating what looks like flooring. You let out a frantic laugh as you slowly make your way towards it. Moving cumbersomely in the water due to the chains and wet clothes weighing you down.

You pause suddenly as you hear shouts above. You hear a voice yell. “Commander Ren”.

Seconds later, a splash sounds behind you. Your eyes widen as you realize that someone had jumped down after you. You hear a hum before a red glow illuminates the water beneath you.  Your heart leaps in your chest as you see a black mass floating to the top of the water. The crazy motherfucker came after you.

You scramble in a panic as you swim as fast as you can towards the light. Your lungs burning, your eyes hurting as you thrash in the water to make it towards the metal railing and haul yourself up.

The water on the smooth black flooring causing you to slip and fall face first back onto the ground. You scramble, trying to get your hands and feet from under you. You feel something on your leg. You know you shouldn't, but you do. You look behind you.

A scream ripping through your throat as you see the man in the black. His arm outstretched from the water reaching for you, looking like a demon trying to drag you to hell.

You frantically kick your feet out. Hitting him in the head, as you scramble haphazardly, stumbling, falling, and screaming all the way as you run through the door and towards the light.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Kylo listened over the comms as Phasma confirmed that the escapee was within the coolant bay rafters. He hears the general give the command to lock the chamber.

He makes his way down the corridor to the adjoining door that would lead to the bay. He doesn’t break stride as the power is shut off in the area, plunging the hallway into darkness. He stops at the coolant bay door. With a wave of his hand the force to pried the door open, the grinding of metal cutting through the silence. As he enters the walkway, he slams the door shut behind him.

Darkness encapsulates the room.

Slowly, the hum of the power initiates, the emergency lights go online casting a red glow throughout the chamber. She was there caught between him and Phasma’s’ squad.

He watches as Phasma acknowledges his presence first. His feet echo as he moves forward on the grated walkway. He watches as the girl slowly turns half her body to stare over her shoulder at him. He can see her trembling even within the dim lighting. He hears her mutter under her breath.

“Damn,” she whispered.

As he continues to stalk towards her, he watches as she steps backwards. Unmindful of her steps, displaying such incompetence and lack of attention to surroundings. He watches as she stumbles off the walkway. Falling chest first onto the walkways edge.

He approached slow and deliberate, raising his hand dismissing Phasma and her troopers from coming to the girl’s aid. She didn’t know what lay below. He did.  Even if she fell from this height she wouldn’t die, unless the fool didn’t know how swim. He narrowed his eyes at her as she clung to the grate. Seeing the fear eyes. He made no gesture to aid her. He wanted her to suffer. Suffer for the foolishness of thinking she could escape the order—escape him.

As he came to stand in front of her, he watched passively as she tried to pull herself up. Her display of strength pitiful. Even in the dim light, he could see the fear and desperation in her eyes.  He watched her continue to struggle, unmoved by her attempt to cling to the walkway. She looked to Phasma and her guards before staring back up at him.

He tilted his head in thought. ‘Was she going to beg him to save her?’

He watched as a calm stillness overtook her face. Her eyes set in with a determination as she stared him down. He saw defiance in her eyes. He stiffened. ‘Fool.’

He lunged forward but was too late to grab her, as she let herself fall.

He watched her disappear below into the coolant pool. A scream tore through the air before moments later the sound of a body hitting water echoed below.

His anger welled in his chest at the girl's actions. She had no way knowing what lay beneath, and yet she chose to fall, presumably to her death. She choose to fall rather than to reach out to him and beg for salvation.

He ignored the shouts of Phasma and her troops as she ordered the coolant pool sub lights to be turned on through the comms.

Kylo’s fists clenched. He knew the drop had not killed her. He would lose time backtracking and moving down the ramps to the below coolant pool. He was done chasing this girl.

He reached across his shoulders unclasping the hooks at his shoulders before throwing his cape off.

He stepped to the ledge before dropping into the pit below.

He hit the water within seconds as the coolant pools safety lights activated. He quickly kicked to the surface as he felt his mask filled with water. As he breached the surface, he saw the girl swimming to the walkway that led to the forward port cargo bay.

He moved after her, watching her struggle. Not only to swim in her chains, but to also pull herself up onto the walkway. He felt slight amusement as he saw her fall face first onto the walkway due to slipperiness of the water she had sloshed onto the ground. Her inability to move calmly and collectively allowed him to catch up to her quickly.

He could see her exhaustion as she tried to climb to her feet, scrambling. Taking advantage of her lapse in energy as he reached the walkway edge, he reached out to grab her leg and pull her back to him. Just as his fingers brushed against her calf she glanced back seeing and let out an ear-piercing scream before kicking her foot out. He reared back in the water to avoid being hit, but her foot still connected briefly with his mask.

He growled, shaking off the blow. He watched her scramble to her feet, flailing and falling as she stumbled into the cargo bay. He pulled himself from water onto the walkway, rage filling his body. He unclasped his mask, yanking it from his face and slamming it to the floor. The sound rang through the rafters.

He was done coddling this rodent. He stormed down the walkway and into the cargo hold. The bright lights only momentarily distracting him as he followed the trail of water the girl left behind.

Chapter Text

You stumble through the threshold into the light, blinded temporarily. Behind you metal slams, a voice roars—his voice. You don’t look back. You run. The hallway twists into a cavernous cargo bay, rows upon rows of towering metal containers stretching into shadow. You weave through them, breath ragged, feet slipping on the wet floor. 

You follow between the stacks of boxes, trying to make your way out of the maze, pausing as you see a glow, the dim softness reminding you of daylight.

Excitement took hold of you. You had found your way out. You barrel forward, finally breaking through the rows of countless containers only to be stopped dead in your tracks.

In front of you was not a door leading to outside. But a window. A window that spanned from floor to ceiling displaying a surreal sight.

Your stomach drops and your mind goes blank. Your brain is trying to process what you see. Your heart sinks as your brain begins making connections.

Your interrogation at the hands of the red headed man comes back to fore front of your memories. The odd questions about who you were, where you came from. The red-haired mans confusion when you said ‘Earth.’ His blank stare at ‘United States.’

You stumble back, a coldness seeping through your body, covering you from head to toe and bleeding into your bones.

In front of your very eyes was a large bluish gray orb suspended in inky blackness. The scene reminding you of every picture of a planet in outer space.  The view in front of you was something that only astronauts got the privilege to every see in person.

Your eyes slowly drift down seeing the massive expanse of metal jetting out into nothingness. You see small objects that look like dots whizzing around the surface. Some are landing and some are flying away. Instantly reminding you of seeing fighter jets taking off from aircraft carriers on the open ocean.

Your brain was trying to rationalize what was in front of your very eyes. You shake your head. What you were seeing, you couldn't believe.

Your body dropped to the floor; your knees striking the hard flooring.

“It's just a dream. It just a bad dream. It's not real.” You whisper as you close your eyes. Willing yourself to wake up.

You open them again just to see the same view of the strange planet suspended in the blackness of space in front of you.

“It's not real. It's a dream.” You tell yourself as you wrap your arms around your stomach. Rocking back and forth to bring yourself some comfort.

Suddenly it hard for you to breathe. Your heart is so loud within your chest, you can feel the thumping throughout your whole body. You gasp tying to inhale air into your lungs as panic sets in.

“It's not real. It's a dream. You're at home, you're asleep. It's not real.” You chant as you start to feel the muscles in your body go stiff. Your fingers numbing and curling with coldness.

You bring a shaky hand up to your eyes before slapping yourself in the face. The sting of your palm against your cheek reverberates down your jaw.

“It's not real!”  You scream blinking rapidly. Hoping that the scene in front of you would disappear and that you would be greeted by the comfort of your bedroom.

With each blink of your eyes your breathing becomes more erratic as you try to take more air into your chest.

Suddenly, you are yanked to your feet. As you are spun around, you stare into the pale face of a man sneering with anger. His inky wet jet-black hair clinging to his face, obscuring his features.

His face is contorted in anger. You realize he is the man in the mask. The kidnapper. The tormentor. The monster. The alien?

The pain in your chest increases as your eyes begin to burn, tears brimming at the surface.

You scream out.” It's not real, you're not real. It's a dream!”

You thrash sobbing in his arms as your ears ring. You twist and flail. His face shifts—anger fading into confusion. He stares at you, stunned.

The buzzing in your ears spreads as your body goes numb. You feel your legs fall from underneath you as you slump in his arms to the floor.

Reality hitting you like a freight train. You were not in bed. You were not home. You were not on Earth. You were in space. Even as you thought the words, your mind could not reconcile the fact with logic.

You scream out more, thrashing as much as you could with your limp arms and legs trying to escape your reality. Trying to escape the man’s grasp.

’Is he even a man?’ You think to yourself. Your mind moving a million miles a minute. Every encounter since you awoke runs through your mind like a silent film on fast forward.

Your heart is beating so fast and loud that you feel it in your throat. You feel nauseous and dizzy. Panic crushing your chest like a boulder.

Your mind screams: ‘You're going to die.’

The room spins. Your vision blurs as your body shuts down.

Darkness creeps through your vision. You utter one word before unconsciousness consumes you.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Kylo stalked through the cargo bay, rage simmering. As he wandered his way through the rows of cargo containers, following the girl. He had lost the trail of the water smudges moments prior. The trail of water had vanished. He clenched his fists, resisting the urge to ignite his saber and carve the room apart.

He calmed himself as he tried to reach out through the force. He was able to sense every soul on board of the Supremacy. They were faint blimps on his radar. Insignificant. His anger bubbling at the surface readying to erupt from his veins.

Then—he felt it.

The void.

The nothingness. That strange absence in the Force. The same nothingness he felt when he sensed when he first laid eyes on her on StarKiller Base. He followed it, weaving through crates, drawn to the silence.

Then he heard her—muttering.

He stalked out beyond the cargo supplies towards the port window.  Eyes locking onto her kneeling figure before the port window. She was on her knees muttering under her breath as she stared out into the expanse.  Seeing one of the planets the Order was harvesting, as well as embarking and disembarking shuttles.

He moved fast. He reached out violently grabbing her in anger. Hoisting her to her feet while turning her to face him.

He gave pause.

Her eyes were wide. Haunted.

“It’s not real,” she whispered. “It’s a dream.”

He stared in confusion as she muttered the phrase over and over again. Her voice rampant with disbelief as she unraveled before him.

Her mutterings became more trance like as she gasped and hyperventilated seemingly unable to breathe.

Deciding he had enough of her irate behavior. He clenched down on her wrists with unnecessary roughness. Roughness he was sure would leave bruises. He opened his mouth to yell at her, —but stopped.

Her face.

The look on her face took him aback. He had never seen such panic before, almost crazed. As she stared into his face, her eyes began to water, tears flowing down her face.  The tears making him uncomfortable for some reason. He buried the feeling as he stared her down

He had yet to actually look at her so closely before.

Her eyes were bloodshot and brimmed with tears. Her hair damp and a tangled mess. He stared into her eyes. He had seen fear in the eyes of his enemies before he cut them down. But this was something different.

Not fear— terror.

Primal. Consuming.

Her breathing became more erratic. He watched as she came apart before him. Unraveling at the seam, muttering over and over again.

“It's not real, you're not real. It's a dream.”

His grip tightened as he felt her slump down. Her body went limp. Her eyes rolled back. She collapsed. Succumbed to a panic induced faint. One final whispered word fell from her lips before she slipped into unconsciousness.

He tensed before slowly letting her body slump to the floor. Letting go of his grip on her arms, watching them drop like dead weights.

He stared at her. A barrage of confusion overtaking his anger.

He ignored the hurried footsteps of troopers as they funneled into the cargo hold behind him with Phasma and Hux in tow.

“The Supreme Leader will be highly agitated if you have killed her Ren!”

Kylo did not respond as he continued to stare at the unconscious body before him. Watching, disinterested, as the General kneeled before her, removing his glove before placing his fingers at the base of her throat. Checking for a pulse.

Kylo turned walking away. Leaving the General to tend to the girl. His thoughts were in disarray. He made his way back towards the coolant bay. The lights had been turned back on within the chamber. He marched towards the end of the walkway, grabbing the discarded mask.

He turned the helmet in his hands. Staring into the empty shell as he had done so many times with his grandfather’s mask. His mind replaying the faint word that slipped from the girl's lips before she slipped into unconsciousness.

His own mind was now reeling with the implications of everything that he had just witnessed.

He slipped the mask over his head

As he morphed back into the faceless killer of the First Order. Her voice stayed with him.

Not her screams.

Not her defiance.

Just that one word she uttered so accusatorily at him before collapsing.

‘Alien.’

Chapter Text

The lockdown had lifted. They were enroute back to the finalizer.

Hux stared down at her. She was strapped to a medical stretcher, unconscious once more. She had briefly awakened during the medics’ examination, moments after her failed escape from Ren. He had ordered her examined. Wanting them to make sure Ren had not damaged her. He had feared the worst when he and Phasma entered the cargo bay and found her collapsed at Ren’s feet, limp as a discarded rag doll.

As the medics were checking her over for wounds. She had come to. She took one glance out the port view window in the medical office, seeing the planet—its surface hollowed, mined to its bones and she had erupted into panic. Shouting the word ‘aliens’.

Three men had to hold her down while the doctor chemically sedated her.

They restrained her and strapped her to a stretcher for departure. The head medic ensured him she would be unconscious for some time.

Hux glanced up from the girl looking at Ren as he sat across from him. Even though he had replaced his mask, Hux could feel the intensity of his gaze. It was fixed on the girl.

He retrieved his datapad, fingers gliding across the interface. He removed his pad from his side. Pulling up the finalizers directory and began sending orders. The prisoner wing would no longer suffice. He rerouted her designation, pulling from the medical data already collected. He ordered clothing, footwear, toiletries—essentials. Enough to suggest containment, not captivity

He looked at the unconscious girl. Still. Silent. Sedated. If his suspicions were correct—if her origins were what he believed—they were no longer dealing with a mere fugitive. She would be a catalyst to something glorious for the Order, for him.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

The Finalizer loomed ahead, a cold promise in the expanse of space.

Kylo sat in silence, the hum of the transport a dull throb beneath his thoughts. In front of him at his feet, she lay strapped to the medical stretcher, unconscious again.

Her body was still—unnaturally still. The chemical sedative turning her inanimate.

Her voice whispering out to him before she collapsed.

Just one word.

‘Alien’.

It wasn’t a curse. It wasn’t a plea.

It was recognition.

Kylo could feel Hux eyeing him. He said nothing.

But her word echoed in his mind.

It clung to him like ash.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Your eyes fluttered open.

Blinding white light flooded your vision. The room was sterile, humming faintly. You felt heavy—like your body had been wrung out and left to dry. Every muscle ached, as if you had run for miles and then collapsed.

You looked around the room. You tried to swallow. Your lips were cracked, dry. The room was not your cell. It looked like a hospital suite—clinical, quiet. A monitor beside you beeped in rhythm with your heartbeat, slow and steady.

Memory of the planet flash across your brain. You closed your eyes again, trying to make sense of it.

You had been operating under a delusion. That this was Earth. That you had been abducted by some off-grid militia. But the images would not let you lie to yourself anymore.

The planet.

You had seen it—floating in space, massive and real. Not a projection. Not a dream. Images of the odd planes you had seen, the odd men and women in white armor, the massive giant you had been brought before.

And him.

The masked tormentor. You barely remembered his face—just the impression of black, slightly wavy hair and pale skin. He looked human. But if you were in space…, how could he be?

Your head began to hurt as your grasp on reality continued to spiral.

If you were human, and Earth was the only planet with life—then what did that make him? A human in space? An alien? Visions of Hollywood movies of reptile like monsters busting out of people’s chests ran across you mind.

Then a voice cut through the haze

“I see you’re finally awake.”

You looked up. Your thoughts ceased.

The red-haired man. Crisp and composed in his tailored black uniform. He stepped closer, hands clasped behind his back. Moving closer to the bed you were laying in.

“If what I suspect is true,” he said, “then I imagine you have many questions. As do I.”

You clenched the medical sheet tighter.

““I’m prepared to offer you certain… allowances while you’re in our charge. If you still are not convinced of your own thoughts. Let me make it clear. You are far, far away from your home.

“I am a pragmatic man all I seek is truth.”

He paused, then continued.

“As a means to get to that truth you will be housed, clothed, and fed. This process can unfold smoothly, without incident—if you choose to cooperate.”

He stepped forward, voice lowering.

“If not… well, my colleague, whom you’ve had the misfortune of provoking repeatedly, will deal with you as he sees fit.”

You thought back to the man in the mask. Being pulled around in the snow before he punched you in the head. Being yelled at and strangled by his hands.

You looked up at the redhead.

This was looking like one of those rare moments where the devil you didn’t know might be safer than the one you did.

You swallowed hard. Then nodded.

He smiled, thin and satisfied.

“Excellent. You will remain here in this medical room until your new accommodations are prepared. Once they are you and I will have much to discuss.”

He turned sharply on his heel, boots clicking against the floor. Looking over his shoulder

“Welcome to the first order”

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Kylo moved through the corridor like a shadow.

The Finalizer was in its night cycle—lights dimmed, foot traffic minimal. Most of the administrative crew were asleep. The silence suited him.

He entered the medical wing. Making his way into the medical suite units. The staff on duty stiffened at his presence, fear radiating off them like heat. He didn’t acknowledge them. Didn’t need to. His path was already set.

He reached her suite

He swept into the room. It was dark, lit only by the low glow of the overhead lights and the pulsing monitors. He stepped inside, the door whispering shut behind him.

He approached her bedside staring down at her.

She lay still.

He took in her appearance. Her face was calm now. The bruise on her temple had faded, a ghost of the moment he’d struck her down on Starkiller Base. He stared at it. At her.

His hand hovered above her body He still could not feel her through the force.

Nothing.

No presence. No resistance. No power.

Just silence. Calm

Emptiness.

‘Alien.’

The word echoed again, uninvited.

It unsettled him more than he cared to admit. Hux’s theory clawed at the edges of his mind. That she wasn’t from any known system. That she was something else. Something foreign.

She had called him an alien.

Yet it was she who was the anomaly. The fracture. The void.

She didn’t belong here.

And yet—here she was. Sleeping in his world. Warping its balance with her absence.

He clenched his fist. Staring at her one last time before turning and leaving the suite.

He marched past the medical crew wrapped up in his own thoughts

He would find the truth.

Even if he had to break her.

Mind, body, and soul.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

You weren’t sure how many days had passed.

Time felt slippery here—measured only by the soft hum of the lights cycling overhead and the quiet routines of your new confinement. You had been moved from the medical suite to a private room. It reminded you of a dorm room on a college campus back home.

There was a small bathroom with a shower and toilet, a table with three chairs, and a bed built into the wall, surrounded by compartments. Inside were folded clothes, shoes, toiletries—essentials, curated with unsettling precision.

The familiarity helped. The structure of a bedroom, however alien its origin, gave your mind something to anchor to. You knew you should still be panicking. But you were not.

You had accepted it.

You were not on Earth. You were not anywhere near it.

Perhaps your chaotic childhood. Filled with constant instability had inadvertently prepared you with the ability to fall apart, compartmentalize, and keep functioning.

The door to your bedroom slides open. You stand.

The red-haired man entered. Crisp as ever. His presence filled the room like cold air.

“Time to begin our sessions,” he said, gesturing for you to follow.

You obeyed.

He led you through quiet corridors into what looked like an office—sleek, metallic, clinical. He motioned to a chair at a table. You sat. He remained standing for a moment, studying you like a specimen.

Then he spoke.

“Now let’s begin. Tell me about Earth—and the galaxy you come from.”

Chapter Text

‘Tell me about Earth—and the foreign galaxy you come from.’

You meet his gaze. ‘What a loaded question.’

His eyes are sharp, expectant. You wonder if he’s trying to intimidate you or simply catalog you.

“What do you want to know?” you ask, voice steady.

“Start with its structure,” he replies. “Land masses. Governments. Military capabilities. Resources.”

You exhale slowly, then begin.

“So the planet I come from is called Earth. Spelled e-a-r-t-h. Its circular. It’s mainly water, salty water with land. We have seven continents. And over 100 countries.”

You rattle of trying to remember basic elementary school subjects.

“And your political structures?”

“It depends where you are. Governments vary. We have democracies, dictatorships, monarchies. Some call themselves one thing and operate as another.”

“What are your worlds military capabilities.”

You rub your face, “Many countries have armies, navies, and air forces.”

“Explain those designations”

“Well, an army are people who fight on the ground mainly. The Navy are people who fight on ships in the water and the air force they fight in the sky in planes.”

“On your world whom is in charge? Who are those most volatile?”

You merk unsure how to answer that.

“It depends...”, You rub your eyebrow.  “…on you who ask and what decade you are asking about. But the most powerful nations have nuclear weapons. Those who don’t either want them or fear them.”

“How advanced would you say your militaries are?”

“Our military capabilities are advanced…” you trail off thinking of where you are “—by our standards at least. We have satellites, drones, cyber warfare. But nothing like what you have here.”  You gesture openly to everything around you.

“Is your planet not capable of space travel? Not even low orbital travel?”

“We’ve been to space before. But mainly just barely outside our planets orbit. The farthest away we’ve been is to our moon.”

“Interesting. How do you maintain your planets intergalactic presence?”

“We don’t have one” You look at him. “We are alone back home.”

Hux narrows his eyes, “Elaborate.”

“Where I come from Earth is the only planet with intelligent life. We have sent probes. Rovers. Signals out into space. But all we have to show for it is background noise.”

He considers that. “Primitive communication. Limited reach.”

“Is your planet not a part of a larger system?”

You nod.

Hux leans forward, fingers poised above his datapad.

“Tell me about your star system. Your galaxy’s designation.”

You nod slowly, gathering the pieces of memory like scattered puzzle fragments.

“Our galaxy is called the Milky Way,” you begin. “It’s spiral-shaped. Billions of stars. We’re tucked into one of the arms—pretty far from the center.”

He doesn’t interrupt, but you can feel his focus sharpen.

“Our solar system has eight planets. Used to be nine, but Pluto got demoted. Long story.”

You tick them off on your fingers.

“Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune. Earth’s the third one from the sun. Not too hot, not too cold. Just right for life.”

Hux glances at his datapad. “And there are no other inhabited worlds?”

You shake your head. “No but some people think we can move to the planet Mars but I do not think it is something possible or at least something I’ll see in my lifetime.

You pause, ‘Your lifetime’

You feel the weight of your situation in your chest. The reality that you are in space already. Potentially the result of everything you didn’t truly believe possible.

You look to him feeling tears brim in your eyes “I guess I’m not in any position to not believe in life beyond Earth anymore”

Hux studies you, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes

“I suppose you’re not.”

He stands.

“That will be all for now. You will be escorted back to your room.”

xxxxXXXXxxxx

You had been led back to your room by people in white armor. You were not sure if they were the same as the ones before when you had been held in a cell.

You had showered. And changed into a similar outfit. Black long-sleeved shirt. Black pants. Nothing unique. Just non-descript.

You had mainly slept in your underwear and a tank top back home. But given the situation it probably was not best to just sleep in your underwear here.

Your stared at the ceiling. You sighed out loud your mind began to race.

Thoughts collided, fractured, multiplied. Questions bloomed like wildfire—too fast, too many. Your body couldn’t keep pace. Exhaustion pulled at you like gravity.

Your eyes drifted shut.

Eventually the only sounds: your breathing, soft and uneven, and the slow.

Then—hiss. The door slid open.

A black mass swept in, silent as shadow. It stood in the dark, watching.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Ten cycles. Ten long cycles since her return to the Finalizer.

Hux had moved her from the medical bay to a private suite—an overflow room tucked near the low-ranking officers, in a wing no one used. Typical Hux. Ever the manipulator. He had promised her release from the prison ward, only to cage her in a prettier cell. Freedom, wrapped in illusion.

Kylo stepped forward, the dim hallway light spilling into the room just enough to outline her form. She lay still. Too still. He could not understand it—why she felt like nothing.

If not for the rise and fall of her chest, he would have thought her dead.

The Force moved through everything: the walls, the air, even him.

But her? Around her, the Force split. It bent, recoiled, avoided. A void. A gap in the current.

He flexed his hands at his sides, jaw tight. The urge clawed at him—rip her from the bed, shake her until she spoke. Until she explained.

Instead, he turned sharply, cloak snapping behind him as he marched out.

He was halfway down the corridor when the worst sound in the galaxy reached his ears.

Hux.

“I hope the girl is still intact,” he said, voice laced with accusation.

Kylo scoffed, brushing past him with deliberate force, shoulder slamming into shoulder.

He didn’t stop—until Hux’s voice slithered after him.

“You have an assignment. Off-ship. The Supreme Leader requests your immediate departure.”

Chapter Text

After you had choked down a bland pile of mush and a piece of flat bread. You were escorted back to the red-head. The one called General Hux

He didn’t look up right away. Just gestured to the seat across from him, fingers tapping something invisible on the table.

“Tell me of the species on your world.”

“Well there us, Humans. Then we have animals, reptiles, insects. Microscopic organisms, bacteria and viruses.

“No other humniods” He asks.

You furrow your brow in confusion, “Humanoids?”

“Different lifeforms with human features. Like speech and walking upright.” He elaborated.

You shake your head. “No. Just humans. I mean, we come in different heights, skin tones, hair textures. There are some people who think skin tone or nationality makes you a lesser human being.”

You pause, letting that hang.

“But we’re all just humans.”

He studies you for a moment longer, then taps something into a datapad.

Hux doesn’t look up when he asks the next question.

“And you? What were you on Earth?”

You hesitate. The question feels intrusive. Judgmental. Like he’s measuring you against some invisible standard.

Still, you answer truthfully.

“A nobody. Like most people.”

That makes him glance up.

“I went to work. Paid bills. Watched TV. Slept. Woke up and did it again.” You pause. “Sometimes I went out. I have some friends, but we don’t talk much anymore. We live far apart.”

You shift in your seat, suddenly aware of how small your life sounds in this room, on this ship, in front of this man.

“On Earth I wasn’t wealthy, famous, or powerful. So I wasn’t important to anyone.”

You exhale, voice quieter now.

“I guess until now I’ve just been… existing.”

The words hang in the air like dust in a sunbeam. You sigh, not dramatically—just the kind of sigh that escapes when you realize you’ve said too much.

Hux studies you, expression unreadable. Not pity. Not disdain. Something colder. Analytical.

Like he’s trying to decide whether your insignificance makes you expendable—or useful.

He studies you, expression unreadable. Then continues.

“No military training? No political affiliations?”

You shake your head.

“I worked in an office. Finances and data entry. I stare at spreadsheets all day.”

There’s a pause. You wonder if he’s disappointed.

“Such an unremarkable life, yet you seem educated.” he says finally.

You laugh.

“Being ordinary doesn’t mean being stupid. It just means no one notices you.”

That seems to land. He taps something into his datapad again, slower this time.

“Curious,” he murmurs. “So insignificant where you come from. And yet, here…” He looks up, eyes sharp, voice low.

“You hold nothing but significance.”

You stare at him. No response. You feel the weight of it. Not flattery. Not kindness. A statement of fact.

Hux leans back slightly, fingers steepled.

“Tell me about your family.”

You don’t flinch. You’ve told this story before. To social workers. Therapists. Strangers who didn’t know what to say afterward.

“I’m an orphan,” you say.

He waits.

“My parents and brother died in a car accident. A drunk driver hit us coming home from dinner.  I survived. They didn’t.”

There’s no tremor in your voice. Just the flat cadence of memory worn smooth by repetition.

“I was twelve when it happened”

Hux does not interrupt. He does not offer sympathy. You wouldn’t trust it if he did.

“After that, I bounced around. Group homes. Foster homes. Some good, some bad. Most forgettable.”

He studies you, eyes narrowing slightly.

“And when you got older?”

“I never got adopted. I just aged out. Became an adult, got a job, and started paying bills and taxes.”

The silence stretches. You wonder if he is trying to calculate your psychological profile. Trauma. Attachment issues. Survival instincts.

“You’re remarkably functional,” he says finally.

You give a hollow laugh

“And you’re remarkably formal,” you say, tilting your head. “Do you ever relax, or is that against protocol?”

He pauses, fingers hovering above the datapad.

Then—he smirks.                                                                                                                                                                       

It’s brief. Barely there. But unmistakable.

“I find formality efficient,” he replies. “It discourages unnecessary emotions.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That sounds like something someone says right before they get emotional”

He actually laughs. Just once. A sharp exhale, more amused than dismissive.

Silence lag between you as he continues to take notes. Cataloging your personhood.

You shift in your seat, the next question catching you off guard.

“What of your own relations?” Hux asks. “Partner? Children?”

You laugh. Not a soft chuckle this time—a sharp, incredulous sound that echoes briefly in the sterile room.

“God, no.”

He raises an eyebrow, but says nothing.

You shake your head, still smiling faintly. “Things just never seem to work out for me in that department. Also, I could barely keep a houseplant alive back home. I do not think I would fare very well with a child.”

Hux studies you, as if weighing the truth behind the humor.                           

“No attachments at all,” he says.

“Not the kind that last,” you reply.

He tilts his head. Cataloging your emotional profile again—resilient, solitary, self-contained.

“Although I do have a pet rock.” You casually say.

He pauses his typing. Raises an eyebrow.

You grin. “His name is Steve.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Hux stares at you like he’s trying to determine whether this is a joke, a psychological tactic, or some strange Earth ritual.

You laugh. “I found him outside my first group home. Smooth, gray, kind of shaped like a potato. I kept him. Gave him a name. Carried him around in my backpack like he was a talisman.”

Hux blinks slowly. “You formed an attachment to a geological object.”

You nod. “Steve never judged me. Never left. Never asked questions. He just… existed. That was enough.”

Hux looks genuinely perplexed. “You anthropomorphized a rock.”

You lean forward, mock-serious. “Steve is more emotionally available than most men I’ve met.”

That earns you a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth. Not quite a smile. But close.

“Noted,” he says.

You smile again, but this time it’s real. Not warm, exactly—but alive.

For the first time, the room doesn’t feel like an interrogation chamber.

It feels like a conversation.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

You made your way down the familiar corridor, steps quiet, measured. You’d learned the route well—Hux’s office to your room and back again. A loop. A leash.

The soldiers you passed glanced at you. Some curious. Most suspicious.

After completing what Hux called productive analysis, he’d granted you certain liberties. One of them: walking alone. But the eyes that trailed you—uniformed, unreadable—reminded you that liberty was not the same as freedom.

You reached his door and waited. A soft beep. Then it slid open.

Today, Hux was seated at a long conference table, not behind his usual desk. A shift in staging. You noted it.

“Hello, General,” you said.

The word still felt foreign in your mouth—General. You had never had to address someone by a rank or title before. But he had never offered a name. And given how rigid he was, you half-suspected he had emerged from the womb in full uniform.

You crossed the room and took the seat adjacent to him. Not opposite. Not beside. Just close enough to see the lines around his eyes, the tension in his jaw.

Hux doesn’t look up from his datapad when he asks, “Tell me of the country you come from? You had mentioned the United States when you had first arrived”

You sigh. “Yes that the name of my country and we call ourselves American.”

He glances up. “When we first discussed your home country. You spoke as if it was highly known and regarded. Is your country the dominant power of your planet?”

You smirk at the loaded question. “Depends on who you ask.”

He sets the datapad down, steepling his fingers. “Describe your people.”

You pause, searching for words that feel both true and fair. It’s not easy.

“We are different Yet similar. Basically, a huddled mass of proud, loud, and angry people.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“We argue about everything. Politics, religion, sports, breakfast foods. We love freedom but cannot agree on what it means. We are obsessed with winning and are constantly reinventing ourselves like it’s a national sport.”

Hux listens, expression unreadable.

“We can be generous to some countries and cruel to others,” you said, voice steady. “Some call us brilliant. Others say reckless. We build, we burn—then build again.”

You leaned back, eyes drifting toward the ceiling, but your thoughts were far from this sterile room. You were thinking of home. Not just the place, but the entirety of it. Its contradictions. Its weight.

Hux tilts his head. “You speak of your country with both affection and contempt.”

You nod. “Because that is what I think it means to be from where I’m from. Blind adulation makes you a fool. Unmitigated hate makes you ungrateful.”

He taps his datapad once, then looks at you.

“Your people sound… volatile.”

You smile. “We are.”

He studies you for a long moment.

“Interesting,” he says. “Your planet may be primitive—but your culture is not without strategic value.”

You watch quietly as he polishes his notes. You decide now is as good a time as any to try to find out more about where you were. Maybe he will be forthcoming.

“Does your galaxy have a name?” you ask.

He pauses.

“No,” he replies curtly. His tone makes it clear he does not intend to elaborate.

You wait, but he does not offer more. Whatever world you are in now, he’s not interested in sharing any knowledge about it.

Instead, he reaches into a drawer and pulls out a sheets of paper—actual paper—and a writing tool. Sleek, metallic, unfamiliar.

He places them in front of you.

“I wish for you to draw your home,” he says. “Your planet. Your solar system. Your galaxy. As best you can.”

You blink. “You want me to sketch the Milky Way?”

“I want to see how you see it,” he replies.

You hesitate, then pick up the stylus. It feels strange in your hand—too light, too smooth. But the paper is real. Tangible. And something about that grounds you.

You begin with Earth.

A small circle. Blue and green. You add the moon, then the sun—larger, blazing. Then the other planets, spaced out in rough orbits. You draw the asteroid belt. The outer giants. Pluto, even though it’s not officially a planet anymore.

Then you sketch the spiral arms of the Milky Way. It’s messy, imperfect. But it’s yours.

You add stars. Dots. You label Earth with a tiny arrow: Home.

When you’re done, you slide the paper toward him.

He studies it silently.

You watch his face, but it gives nothing away.

“It’s not accurate,” you say. “But it’s what I remember.”

He nods once, then folds the paper carefully and places it in a folder.

“Thank you,” he says.

And for the first time, it sounds almost sincere.

Chapter Text

Days blur.

You wake. You eat. You walk the same corridor. You sit across from Hux in that sterile room, answering questions.

He’s methodical. Precise. But not unkind. At least not yet.

Sometimes he offers you tea. Sometimes he lets you ask questions back. But mostly, he listens. Records. Studies.

Today, you find yourself explaining the concept of mutually assured destruction.

“Essentially our planet maintains peace,” you say, “by ensuring that any act of overt aggression would end in total annihilation. If one country launches nuclear weapons, the others retaliate. Everyone dies. So, no one dares.”

Hux leans forward slightly. “You call that peace?”

You hesitate. “Maybe not peace. Maybe fear is a better name to call it. But it keeps the scales from tipping.”

He is quiet for a long moment. “And this fear—does it unify your species?”

You shake your head. “No. It divides us. But it also… binds us. Like a shared nightmare.”

He taps his stylus against the table. “Fascinating. Your civilization survives by threatening itself.”

You glance at him. “Doesn’t yours?”

He doesn’t answer.

Instead, he stands and walks to the viewport. The stars beyond are motionless, faded, indifferent.

“You are a plant of paradox,” he says.

You straighten as your conversation continues

Hux leans forward, voice low.

“What do you remember before arriving?”

You hesitate.

The memories are fragmented, like shattered glass. But you start piecing them together.

“I’d just gotten home from work,” you say. “I was tired. Wanted some air. So, I went for a walk in the national park near my apartment.”

He nods, encouraging.

“There was this… ringing. Not in my ears. In the air. Like the world was vibrating. Then warmth. Like I was being pulled through something.”

You pause.

“And then I woke up. A man was calling me scum.”

Hux’s eyes narrow.

“I remember running.  I remember snow. I remember hiding. Then the man in the mask—he was dragging me.”

You swallow.

“I think I hit him with a pipe or something. Then he punched me in the face. Hard.”

Hux smirks. Not cruelly. More like someone watching a memory play out.

“Starkiller,” he murmurs. “That confrontation caused quite a stir.”

You blink. “You were there?”

He nods. “I saw the aftermath. He was… displeased.”

“Can’t imagine why. I was the one being dragged around like a rag doll” You raise an eyebrow.

Hux lets out a short, sharp laugh—quick and unguarded. It’s the first time you’ve heard him genuinely amused.

“It was probably the combination of the pipe,” he says, “and kicking him in the groin.”

You blink. “I kicked him in the groin?”

“Yes,” he replies, almost to himself. “You did.”

You stare at him. He is clearly entertained by the memory. Which means one of two things: Either they are very good friends… Or he despises the man.

You lean back, watching him.

Thinking of how that jerk had punched you, you can’t help but savor the idea of his pain. A little mockery feels earned.

“Did he cry?”

Hux’s mouth twitches.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

You shift in your seat, trying to sound casual.

“Speaking of tall, dark, and scary… is he still here?”

Hux doesn’t look up from his datapad.

“He is away,” he says. “Another assignment.”

You exhale, not sure if it’s relief or disappointment.

“I’m not sure I want to be around him again,” you admit. “Every time we’ve crossed paths, it’s ended with him putting his hands on me.”

Hux finally looks up. His gaze is sharp, unreadable.

He nods once, slowly. “Your instincts are correct. He is not… gentle.”

You study Hux’s face. There’s no fondness there. No loyalty. Just calculation.

“Do you trust him?” you ask.

Hux considers. “I trust his power. Not his control.”

You lean back, absorbing that.

“So he’s dangerous.”

Hux’s lips twitch. “Everyone here is dangerous. But he is… volatile.”

You glance at the door, half-expecting it to slide open and reveal the masked figure again. But it doesn’t.

Still, the memory lingers. Snow. Pain. That moment of defiance.

You wrap your arms around yourself.

Hux doesn’t respond.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

You cross your arms, leaning back in the chair. You had taken a break from questions. As you sat quietly. Hux typed away at his notes of you.

You decide now is a good time to bring up your boredom.

“So I’ve been here a while,” you say. “And I was wondering if I can have something to do. Other than our fascinating talks. In which I talk, and you avoid talking.”

Hux doesn’t look up immediately. But the corner of his mouth twitches.

“I’m bored,” you continue. “When I go back to my room, it’s just walls and silence. I need something. A task. A distraction. A hobby. I’ll take knitting at this point.”

He finally sets down his datapad and studies you.

“You wish to contribute?”

“I wish to not lose my mind.”

Hux contemplates. Weaponry? Too dangerous. Communications? Too sensitive.

He needs something mundane. Contained. Harmless.

His eyes flick toward you.

“Custodial technician,” he says.

You blink. “You’re joking.”

He doesn’t blink. “I am not.”

“You want me to clean toilets?”

He tilts his head, almost amused. “Sanitation is essential to operational efficiency.”

You stare at him. “ I get dragged across galaxies, interrogated for weeks, and now you want me to scrub urinals?”

“I want you to prove you can follow orders,” he replies.

You lean forward, voice low. “Is this punishment or a test?”

“Does it matter?” he says.

You exhale sharply, then stand. “Fine. Give me a mop. I’ll make your floors sparkle.”

He watches you, expression unreadable.

“Good,” he says. “Report to Maintenance Deck 3 at 0800. You’re dismissed”

You turn to leave, then pause at the door.

“Just so you know,” you say over your shoulder, “if I find out this is some kind of psychological experiment, I’m spitting in every sink.”

Hux smirks. “Noted.”

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Weeks passed.

You fell into your custodial duties with surprising ease. The work was repetitive, but grounding. You scrubbed floors, emptied bins, sanitized med bays. It wasn’t glamorous, but it gave you rhythm. Purpose.

And you weren’t alone.

You’d made two friends—Tallis and Bren. Both were quiet at first, wary. But over time, they warmed to you. Shared jokes. Split rations. Taught you which decks to avoid and which officers to ignore.

As you whipped down a corridor panel Tallis leaned in conspiratorially.

“You know you’re pretty famous on board, right?”

You blinked. “Famous?”

Bren snorted. “There are rumors. Lots of them.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

Tallis grinned. “One says you were a prisoner turned ally. That Hux saw potential and recruited you.”

You shrugged. “Plausible.”

Bren smirked. “Another says you’re the drugged-out daughter of a high-ranking official. Sent here for discipline.”

You laughed. “That’s creative.”

Then Tallis hesitated, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“And the last one…”

You looked up from your mop. “Go on.”

Tallis leaned closer. “They say you’re sleeping with the General.”

You choked on your own spit.

“What?!”

Your eyes bugged out. Bren was already laughing.

“Apparently, you seduced him during an interrogation. Now he’s keeping you close.”

You stared at them, horrified. “That’s insane.”

Tallis shrugged. “Rumors don’t care about logic.”

You groaned, rubbing your forehead. “Great. I’m the intergalactic janitor with a scandalous love life.”

Bren grinned. “Welcome to the Finalizer.”

Tallis wasn’t done.

“The other rumor I heard?” she said, barely containing her grin. “You were with the Commander too. Making out in the med bay.”

You snorted so hard you nearly dropped your sanitizer.

“Seriously?” You laughed. “How would I even do that? Isn’t that mask practically glued to his skull?”

Bren doubled over “Maybe it retracts.”

You rolled your eyes, but the laughter felt good. Real.

Still, as you turned back to your cleaning, the humor faded. Your hands moved on autopilot—scrubbing, rinsing, repeating—but your mind drifted.

The Commander.

You’d seen his face once. Briefly. A flash of pale skin, inky black hair, and something else—something sharp and haunted in his eyes. It was right before your panic attack. You’d collapsed, breath stolen, vision tunneling.

He’d removed his mask.

You couldn’t fully remember all of his full features. Just impressions.

You shook the memory from your head, trying to clear it.

Here you were in a galaxy far far away from Earth and somehow you managed to go from prisoner to prostitute.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Your hand was cramping.

You flexed your fingers, trying to shake out the ache, but it didn’t help much. Hux had you in his office again, scrolling through planet profiles on a holopad that reminded you of a high-tech iPad from back home—sleek, glowing, and utterly exhausting.

You squinted at the next entry. Arid climate. Low oxygen. Native fauna: hostile.

“How many planets do you have in this galaxy?” you muttered. “I must’ve looked at like thirty already.”

Across the room, Hux didn’t look up from his own notes. He was seated at his desk, posture perfect, stylus gliding across his datapad with surgical precision.

“Many,” he said, flipping a page with practiced indifference. “Not to mention the habitable moons.”

You groaned. “Of course. Moons. Why not throw in asteroid colonies while we’re at it?”

He glanced at you then—just briefly. “If you’re tired, you may take a break.”

You hesitated. The offer was unexpected. Almost...human.

But you shook your head. “I’m fine. Just didn’t expect intergalactic real estate to be this overwhelming.”

He didn’t smile, but something in his expression shifted. Amusement, maybe. Or approval.

You returned to the holopad, scrolling past another barren world, your fingers aching, your mind drifting. The possibility that somewhere out there, among the endless stars and hostile moons, was your home. A place he was searching for.

And you were helping him find it.

“Oh wait,” you said, sitting up straighter. “This one looks promising. Or maybe this one.”

You tapped the holopad, zooming in on two planetary profiles. Both shimmered with familiar hues—blue oceans, green landmasses, cloud systems swirling like brushstrokes.

“They kind of remind me of what Earth looks like,” you murmured.

Hux rose from his desk and crossed the room, his boots silent against the polished floor. He stood beside you, gaze dropping to the screen.

You pointed to the first planet. “This one.”

Then the second. “And this.”

He didn’t speak right away. You looked up at him, frowning. His expression was unreadable—but something flickered behind his eyes. Conflict. Recognition.

“Are you positive?” he asked quietly.

You nodded. “Yeah. They’re not identical, but Earth looks similar. Most similar is this one.” You tapped the first. “But the second one’s close too.”

Hux leaned in, examining the first profile.

Alderaan.

Then the second.

Naboo.

Hux felt a chill crawl up his spine.

Both planets had significant profiles in the galactic archives. Cultural hubs. Political powerhouses. And both had ties—direct, intimate ties—to the walking menace who commanded the First Order.

Alderaan: obliterated by the Death Star.

Naboo: birthplace of Padmé Amidala. Ties to Lord Vader.

“That will be all for today you can return to your regular duties.”

xxxxXXXXxxxx

You mopped the floor mindlessly. Hux dismissing you so suddenly was making you uneasy. You had pointed out the planets that resembled Earth. Something in him had shifted—tightened. Then he dismissed you. So here you were, back on third shift, cleaning the back halls. Quiet. Dim. Forgotten corners of the Finalizer.

You heard footsteps.

You moved your bucket aside, hoping the person would pass without bothering you.

He didn’t.

He stopped in front of you.

“You’re the girl, aren’t you?” he said.

You looked up and around, confused. “I’m a girl.”

He smiled. Licked his lips. Stepped closer.

Too close.

His hand reached out, fingers brushing your chin.

“I’ve heard some very interesting rumors about you.”

You stiffened. “People talk all the time. Doesn’t make it true.”

“I heard you like to warm the beds of powerful men.” He touched your cheek.

You recoiled. “Hey, pal. Back off.”

“I’d rather you get me off—”

He grabbed for you again.

You twisted away, stumbling over your mop bucket. Falling to the ground as water spilled across the floor in a slick wave.

You turned to yell—but stopped.

He was frozen.

The hand that had touched your face was outstretched, trembling.

Then—his fingers began to bend back. One by one.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

He screamed. “Commander, forgive—!”

You froze.

Black fabric filled your peripheral vision.

You swallowed the dry lump in your throat. Pausing trying to gather courage to look up.

You took a deep breath eyes slowly moving upward until your eyes laded on him

The masked man.

Kylo Ren.

Chapter Text

Kylo had returned from his mission with his knights. The resistance had amassed a fleet—larger than expected. The Supreme Leader had sent them to gather intel, but the results were thin. Fragmented. Unsatisfying.

He was agitated. Not just from the mission’s limited success, but from the gnawing distraction that had followed him across the rims: the girl.

Her breakdown. Her collapsing in panic. The memory clung to him like smoke. Hux’s theory—that she was from another galaxy—still felt absurd. But her reaction to something as mundane as stars and planets, had unsettled him.

Had made him question things he wasn’t ready to name.

Communication had been sparse during the mission, and he was behind on the knowledge gathering the General was in charge of. But as he marched through the ship’s corridors, he felt it—the void of her absence. A hollow space where her presence should have been.

Then he saw her.

Not confined to her room. Not under guard. Out in the open.

She was in a custodial uniform, mopping the floor like a crew member. And worse—an officer stood too close, invading her space, his voice low and suggestive.

Kylo slowed his pace, listening.

The officer was propositioning her. Implying she was sleeping with powerful men.

He watched as she twisted from the man’s hand and fell to the floor

He marched forward having had enough of the officer’s behavior.

He suspended the man with the force. Halting him in his tracks. Bending and breaking his fingers.

He looked down at her. She was sitting in a puddle of mop water, eyes wide with shock as he disfigured the officer with a single, brutal gesture.

Then he turned back to the man, reaching into his mind. Trying to determine what made him so bold.

The officer’s thoughts spilled out. Fantasies of using her for his own pleasure. He delves deeper trying to understand what made him think you were interested. Then he sees it—gossip, speculation, filth.

Rumors of her frequent visits to the Generals office. Her private wing and quarters after being moved out of a prison cell. Whispers that she had been his bedmate. How he had left you unsatisfied and so you turned to Hux in his absence. That the General had stolen Kylo’s whore while he was away.

He flexed his hand breaking the officer's arm. Bone snapped with a sickening crack, protruding through flesh like a jagged blade. Punishment for the insult to his manhood.

Kylo’s grip tightened.

He lifted the man off his feet with the force, ignoring the girl’s gasp behind him. The air around them thickened, charged with fury.

“You think her to be mine?”

He glanced at the girl. Then back at the officer

“You think I would share with other men?”

“I apologize Commander. It will not happen again” he pleaded in pain.

He moves closer. Tilting his head. Anger simmering at the surface

“You are so right”

Kylo closes his fist folding the man in half. Spine breaking and neck snaping.

His contorted body drops to the floor.

Kylo turns to her.

“Why are you roaming freely in the halls,” he said, voice low and distorted through the mask.

She flinched.

“I—Hux said—”

Kylo’s head tilted. “Hux said what?”

She hesitated. “...That I could have more leeway.”

Kylo stepped closer. Water rippled around his boots.

“By cleaning floors?”

She didn’t answer.

Kylo paced the hallway staring at you. The officer’s body lay crumpled behind him, forgotten. Irrelevant.

'You were a problem. A distraction. An anomaly.'

You should have been confined to your quarters—isolated, contained. Not wandering freely among the crew. Among the men.

His breath came fast, shallow. Rage and confusion tangled in his chest like wire. He slammed his fist into the wall, the impact echoing down the corridor.

He stormed away from you, cloak trailing like smoke, fury radiating off him in waves.

Hux.

The man had much to answer for—allowing you to walk freely among the crew, to speak, to be seen. To be known.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

You watch him storm off, his fury trailing behind him like smoke. You’re still on the wet floor, knees damp, breath shallow. Shock anchors you in place.

Your eyes drift to the body.

Contorted. Broken. Limbs twisted at unnatural angles. The brutality of it makes your stomach turn.

How did he do that?

Did he have powers? Something beyond strength—beyond rage?

You replay the words he spat at the officer, voice low and venomous.

You think her to be mine? You think I share?

You blink, trying to make sense of it. The officer hadn’t said anything. Not aloud.

So how did Kylo know what he was thinking?

You jerk your head up, heart hammering. Two stormtroopers round the corner, boots clattering against the metal floor. Patrol.

Their visors tilt toward the scene—spilled mop water, a lifeless body, and you.

You scramble to your feet, hands raised instinctively.

“I swear I didn’t kill him.”

They pause. One looks at the other. Then they both turn back to you, silent.

A beat passes.

Then one of them lifts his comm.

“Command, we’ve got a situation.”

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Hux sat hunched over the girl’s drawings, his fingers steepled, eyes narrowed in thought. The sketches were crude, but thought provoking.

He flipped through his notes.

Was she from the same plane of existence? Beyond the Unknown Regions? Beyond the galaxy itself?

Some of her terminology aligned with theirs—human, animal, planet—but others were jarringly foreign. Concepts that didn’t translate. Phrases that bent meaning.

Could they share common ancestry?

The galaxy was ancient. Older than the Republic, older than the Jedi. What if their ancestors had once been more advanced than they realized? Had they left this galaxy long ago—seeking discovery, colonization, transcendence?

Hux’s mind raced with possibilities. He began typing the next round of questions he intended to ask her. This time, he’d press harder. Probe deeper.

Then the door slammed open.

Only one person would dare.

Hux didn’t look up immediately. He finished his sentence, deliberately slow, before lifting his gaze.

Kylo Ren stalked toward the desk, cloak billowing, face carved in fury.

Hux sighed, irritation prickling beneath his skin.

“I assume this isn’t a social visit.”

xxxxXXXXxxxx

The door slams open.

Kylo Ren storms in, cloak trailing like smoke, boots thudding against the polished floor.

Hux doesn’t flinch.

“I assume this isn’t a social visit.” He lifts a brow, voice dry. “I also see your mission was less than a success.”

Kylo doesn’t respond.

He’s already pacing, eyes scanning the room like a predator.

“Why is the girl mopping floors?” he snaps. “Roaming the halls like crew?”

Hux leans back in his chair, fingers steepled. “I assigned her duties. To keep her busy.”

Kylo scoffs. “She should remain in a quarters. She’s a potential threat.”

Hux’s eyes narrow. “A lot has developed since you’ve been away. I felt she deserved leeway.”

“You felt?” Kylo echoed, voice sharp.

They stared each other down, the office thick with silence.

One man wanted you isolated—hidden away, dissected in the dark. The other wanted you exposed—studied, cataloged, exploited.

Both vying silently for their own version of control over you.

Kylo clenches his hands. “You don’t have dominion over her”

Hux lifts his chin “Neither do you”

The moment fractured as an alert pinged across Hux’s console. He glanced at it, jaw tightening, eye twitching.

“You are barely back on board and you have killed one of my officers.”

Kylo scoffs “Your officers should learn to restrain themselves.

Hux sneers. The irony wasn’t lost on him

“His death is a result of your short sightedness. The girl’s visibility has sparked rumors among the ranks. Rumors that she is in carnal relations with you.” Kylo stares at Hux.

“And you think that warrants death?”

Kylo continues “and with me. That she is shared between us.”

Hus scoffs “She’s a civilian,” he says. “A foreigner. The crew sees her as exotic, vulnerable, and close to power. It was inevitable rumors spread. Rumors, however crude, don’t warrant execution.”

“Rumors that precipitated a near assault,” Kylo says.

Hux stood slowly. “What?”

Kylo’s fist flexed “Rumors that fueled his thoughts, made him believe she was amenable to his advances.”

He paused. Then added, with quiet finality

“I disagreed. On her behalf.”

Chapter Text

You stifle a yawn, the exhaustion settling deep in your bones. You had been detained for hours while the ships security personal confirmed you had not killed an officer. Hours in detainment had left you hollowed out, your only crime surviving an assault. The security team had reviewed the footage, seen the moment the officer lunged at you. Then the Commander arrived in the hallway and seized the man. You all watched in silence as the officer is levitated and then killed by Kylo Ren. 

You had awoke the next morning to no summons from the General. So, you just went about your usual janitorial duties. The crew avoided you. Especially the men. They scattered like shadows in your path, eyes down, mouths shut. You sighed.

 You stepped into the mess hall. Chatter died instantly.

You grabbed your tray, walked to your crew’s table. Eyes followed you—some wide, some narrowed, all watching. You sat. The silence was suffocating. Even your crew, usually loud and irreverent, said nothing.

You started to eat. They stared.

You let it go for a moment. One bite. Two.

Then you looked up. Met their eyes. One by one.

Your jaw tightened. Your voice came low, sharp, and unflinching.

“What?”

Bren breaks the silence first, voice low but sharp with curiosity. “So… is it true?”

You don’t look up. You stab a piece of food with your fork and feign ignorance. “Is what true?”

Bren leans in, eyes narrowing. “That you had the Commander kill an officer.”

Your grip tightens around the fork. “I didn’t have him do anything.” The words come out clipped, your jaw clenched.

You shift in your seat, trying to steer the conversation away from the accusation still hanging in the air. “Is it anything new? Aren’t y’all always saying he’s breaking things around here all the time?”

Your tone is dry, almost teasing, but there’s an edge beneath it—like you’re daring them to keep pushing.

Kessa snorts, loud and unfiltered. “Yeah, things. He broke a person in half.”

Tallis notices the way your shoulders stiffen, the way your eyes stay locked on your tray. Her voice is gentle, almost apologetic. “Well, if it makes you feel better… the officer was handsy to begin with. He got what he deserved.”

The others nod, murmuring agreement. The implication hangs in the air like smoke: You were right to survive. He was wrong to touch.

But it does not make you feel better.

You do not mourn the man. He tried to assault you. You know that. You know his death was not your fault. But the way they talk about it—like Kylo Ren’s violence was yours to command—that is what unsettles you.

You look up, you see other officers looking at you. Judgment in their eyes.

You somehow fallen into a different galaxy. Where you went from a nobody to a prisoner. From a prisoner to a whore moonlighting as a janitor.

And now?

Now you were something else.

Something they could not name. Something that made them nervous.

Someone who Kylo Ren chooses to intervene for.

And that made you dangerous in their eyes.

You push your tray away. Appetite gone.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

You sit in silence in Hux's office. He's preparing for your interview. You notice tightness in him. He knows about the incident and the fallout.

“I want to first begin with apologies to you”

“The officers’ actions were unbecoming of the First Order and of one under my command.”

Professional platitude. Even with being in a strange land far away from Earth, the standard response for harassment seemed to be the same.

“Now let's begin w....”

You cut him off, “What is he?”

“I beg your pardon?”

You look at the general. Thinking back to how Kylo Ren held the man suspended in the air, broke his arm and then broke him in half without touching him.

You whisper out, “Kylo Ren.”

Hux straightens in his chair. Turning over in his mind what he wishes to reveal.

"He is gifted with something that most in the galaxy have forgotten about. Something long thought eradicated. An ability to shape things around him and bend them to his will.”

You think back to when you first met him. How he flexed his hands at you, yelled in anger for you not being affected. You remember him flipping the table in the interrogation room before he tried to choke you.

“Is he the only one around here who can do these things?”

Hux's jaw tightens “Our Supreme Leader as well."

You think back to the disfigured giant, a shiver runs down your spine.

You look back at Hux, studying his face. There is no fondness there. No loyalty. Just calculation.

“Am I safe around him? Kylo?” you ask.

Hux considers. “For the time being your knowledge is more important to the Supreme Leader. Commander Ren dare not cross him or his orders.”

You lean back, absorbing that. Your session moves on.

Mundane things about geology and atmosphere. You talk about mountains and plateaus. Deep trenches buried under pressure and water. Climate. How some places on Earth are burning hot, some frigidly cold, and others experience cycles that are both hot and cold.

While you talk with the general, your thoughts drifted back to the man in a mask and black fabric who seemed to be haunting your every move and now your thoughts.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Your feet echo on the steel floor as you head back to your room. Officers and crews still scurry out of your way or freeze up like statues. Like you were going to point at them and Kylo would appear like a pit bull and maul them to death. The thought of a cute little black pittie with a cape following you around, biting people in the butt at your every command made you laugh.

As you make your way down your deserted hall to your quarters, you pause. You see him standing near your door. You stop in your tracks.

Every memory of him runs across your mind.

The scuffle in the snow, getting punched in the face, the choking in the interrogation room, running through the halls of the other ship trying to get away from him. Then his face. His angry face. Still blurred in your memories.

You might not be able to pick him out of a crowd, but you remember he had a face. He was human. A man under that mask. You think of his weird power, how he broke that man in two. But he could not do it to you for some reason. Sure, he could use his naturally given human male strength to beat you down, but you had a feeling he would not. Or at least for now, he was not allowed to.

You straighten your back. You were not going to cower in front of him. His power while it frightened you, you were outside of its reach. Immune somehow. You marched down the hall, walking right up to him. Showing you were unbothered and unafraid.

You eyed him through his stupid mask.

“Can I help you?”

You see his demeanor break for just a second.

You stare at each other in silence. He says nothing. He does nothing.

“Well, if not, I'm going to bed.” You breathe out.

You turn, open the door and enter, glancing over your shoulder.

“Goodnight.”

The door closes.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Kylo stands in the hall in silence. Confused.

She stared him down like she was his equal. He clenched his fist. He did not like her defiance.

He marched down the hall in anger.

‘How dare she not fear him. How dare she stare him down.’

She was tiny compared to him. He could crush her small stature with his actual bare hands. Yet she stood before him, unimpressed and unbothered.

‘Good night’, he scoffs in his head.

He felt his eye twitch. How dare she wish him to have a peaceful night.

Chapter Text

You rub your face as the door hisses open, stepping into the corridor like someone surfacing from a half-drown dream. Sleep had been a battlefield—fractured by the memory of the officer’s death and the weight of your own defiance in the face of the shadow that was Kylo Ren.

You thought back to seeing him standing outside your door before you went to bed. On Earth, back home, you would’ve pepper sprayed him without hesitation. Called the police. Slammed the door and filed a restraining order. But here? In this galaxy? He was the law.

You walked down the corridor at a slower pace. Down the hall, maintenance crews move with quiet urgency.

Welders crouch beside torn panels, electrical sparks flaring like miniature suns. The scent of burnt metal clings to the air. As you walk by you trace the blackened streaks with your eyes.

Was there a fire? You are reasonably certain that it was not present when you retired last night. You look toward the maintenance technicians; none of them return your glance.

You keep walking.

You show up for janitorial duty, and the corridors feel cold—not from temperature, but from how people avoid you. Men in particular steer clear, avoiding eye contact and stopping conversations as you walk by.

The shadow of Kylo Ren still clings to the air like smoke. The officer’s death—brutal, sudden—has left a stain no mop can scrub clean. You are not blamed, not exactly. But you were there. And that is enough.

You are assigned to your usual crew. Bren greets you with a nod, Tallis with a smile. You fall into rhythm—mopping, scrubbing, polishing—your body moving on instinct while your mind drifts.

As you work, Bren starts talking about sweets. Real ones. Not the nutrient blocks they serve in the mess. “Back home,” he says, “we had these honey-dipped pastries. Flaky as hell. You’d bite in and it’d melt on your tongue.”

Tallis chimes in, wistful. “Spiced tea. My grandmother used to brew it so strong it’d clear your sinuses for a week.”

Their voices soften the edges of the day. For a moment, the scent of scorched metal fades, replaced by imagined warmth—steam rising from cups, sugar clinging to fingertips, laughter echoing in kitchens far from war.

You keep mopping. The floor gleams.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

You sat across from Hux in his office. His posture sharp, uniform immaculate, arms folded, eyes like flint.

You were feeling brave ever since you told the masked man off. You decided that you wanted to ask questions today.

"No further questions," you speak out.

He arched a brow amused. “Oh?”

“It’s my turn.”

He leaned back, the faintest curl of intrigue tugging at his mouth. “Go on.”

“I want to know how I got here.” You ask bluntly.

The amusement drained from his face. What remained was clinical precision.

“You appeared,” he said, “on one of our military development sites. Remote. Uninhabited. Still under construction.”

You leaned forward, voice low. “Appeared?”

“There was an explosion. No warning. No traceable origin. It vaporized equipment. Killed dozens. Left a crater.”

Your breath caught.

“You were at the center,” he continued. “Alive. No burns. No radiation sickness. Just… unconscious.”

You stared at him, the silence between them stretching taut.

“That doesn’t make sense.”

Hux nodded once, slowly. “Agreed.”

You continue “What did you do with my stuff?”

You did not blink. “My clothes. My phone. My headphones.”

Hux narrowed his eyes. He had wondered what the strange devices she had carried were called.

“They are in quarantine. Being studied.”

You snorted. “You’re studying my phone and workout clothes?”

“Workout clothes,” Hux repeated, as if the phrase itself were a riddle. “Is that what they are?”

You leaned back, arms crossed. “Yeah, what did you think they were.”

He considered her, head tilted. “The fabric is… synthetic. Resilient. Possibly armor-adjacent.”

You almost laugh at the idea of someone thinking highlighter yellow Nike leggings and t-shirt were military attire. “It’s just spandex.”

He blinked. “Spandex.”

“Yeah, it’s a type of fabric for leisure where I’m from”, you muttered. “We wear stretchy pants and listen to music while running from our problems.”

Hux made a note of what you just said.

You sat in relative silence for some time. Watching him polish his notes—precise, methodical, like he was cataloging a specimen instead of a person.

“I want entertainment,” you signed out.

Hux didn’t look up. “Entertainment.”

“Yeah. Games. Books. Music. If I’d known I was going to be sucked into space, I would have packed some leisure material. Books, movies, Gameboy or my violin.”

That got his attention.

He paused mid-step, turning slightly. “Violin?”

You glanced up. “Yeah. It is a string instrument where I’m from. You use a bow and—”

“I know what it is,” he cut in, voice clipped. “I’m just surprised you do.”

You raised an eyebrow, arms still folded. “Why? You don’t think I can play an instrument?”

Hux tilted his head, studying her like she’d just claimed fluency in an extinct dialect. “In our galaxy, very few play such things. Those who do are noble. Refined.”

You smirked. “I can be refined. I’ve worn a dress before. I know how to sip tea and pretend I care about politics.”

A smile tugged at his lips—barely there, like a glitch in his programming.

“I simply meant,” he said, voice cool, “your orphan status lent that you don’t come from a family of means.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, well, where I’m from, it is a public-school instrument. Most kids get the option to learn it. Does not matter if your parents own a yacht or a laundromat.”

Hux blinked, recalibrating.

“Fascinating,” he murmured. “A culture where elegance is democratized.”

Hux’s expression shifted.

“This public school,” he echoed. “Who’s allowed to go?”

You blinked, thrown by the question. “Everyone. It’s mandatory. At least until you’re a teenager.”

He frowned, as if the concept itself was foreign. “Even the poor?”

“Especially the poor.”

He went quiet, considering that. The silence stretched, heavy with calculation.

“Do you guys not have school here?” You asked

“In the First Order as well as most the galaxy,” he said finally, “education is reserved for those with strategic potential. Commoners are relegated to labor and military service.”

You stared at him, the weight of that sentence settling in your chest like a stone.

“That’s messed up.”

He didn’t argue. Didn’t flinch. Just watched her—like he was trying to understand your world.

Hux sets down his datapad, eyes narrowing like he’s recalibrating a theory.

“Are you good at it?”

You blink in confusion. “At school?”

Hux frowns “No. The violin.”

You smile faintly, caught off guard by the specificity. “Yeah. I’d like to think so. I played all through my schooling years. Recreationally afterward.”

Hux nods, sipping his tea with that infuriating air of quiet judgment—like he’s filing you into a category you’ll never see.

Before he can ask another question, the office door hisses open.

Kylo Ren sweeps in like a storm front, cloak trailing, presence oppressive.

“You are done with her for the day,” he says, voice clipped. “I require her presence.”

Hux raises a brow but says nothing. The silence between them is practiced, weaponized.

Kylo turns to you, mask tilting like a predator sizing up prey.

“Girl. You will meet me on Deck C. Training room.”

He turns and leaves without waiting for a response.

You stare after him, incredulous. “Gawd. What a rude dick.”

Hux chokes on his tea, coughing like decorum betrayed him. He sets the cup down with surgical precision, biting back a smile that threatens to fracture his entire reputation.

He stands, smooth and deliberate. “I will have troopers escort you to the training room,”.

You stand, brushing off your uniform like it’s armor and stage costume all at once.

You bit back your nervousness of being around Kylo Ren alone.

You hesitate. “Or you could come.”

Hux is already watching you, head tilted, expression unreadable.

You give him a nervous smile.

A beat passes. Then he nods once, almost imperceptibly.

“Very well then. I’ll walk you there.”

And just like that, the air shifts. Not safer. But less alone.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

The hallway stretched ahead, sterile and humming with low-grade menace. You walked beside Hux, your boots echoing in tandem, the silence between you oddly companionable.

Troopers flanked you, but it was Hux’s presence that steadied your pulse. Not comforting, exactly—but familiar. Predictable in a way Kylo Ren was not.

You glanced sideways. “Why did you agree to escort me. It can’t be just because I asked.”

“Curious” Hux said.

You snorted. “About what? Whether I’d survive this encounter?”

He didn’t answer. Just kept walking, hands clasped behind his back like he was inspecting a battlefield.

The training room loomed ahead. The doors hissed open, revealing Kylo Ren already waiting, mask tilted, arms folded.

“I don’t remember requesting your presence General,” he said, voice low and unreadable.

“She requested it,” Hux replied smoothly.

Kylo’s gaze shifted to you then back to Hux. “Leave us.”

You swallowed hard but stepped forward. Don’t be afraid. Hux said he cant hurt you. At least not yet.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Kylo Ren stood still watching as Hux escorted you into the training room. You walked close to him—too close. As if his presence offered protection.

Kylo scoffed beneath the mask.

Hux. That duplicitous snake.

You didn’t know. If you did, you’d recoil from him like he was poison. Not just a bureaucrat in a pressed uniform, but something far worse.

Kylo might be the scourge of the galaxy. The Jedi killer. The monster in dark.

But Hux?

Hux was a cancer. Slow. Patient. Terminal.

And you stood beside him like he was a shield.

Kylo’s fingers twitched at his side.

You will learn what kind of men survive in this galaxy.

Eventually, the mask always comes off.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Hux turned to leave, boots clicking with precision against the polished floor. But he froze mid-step.

A voice slithered into his mind, low and intimate.

‘You take reverence in her naïve disposition... but you and I both know you are no savior. No saint.’

His spine stiffened. That voice—Kylo’s—wasn’t spoken aloud. It was invasive, spectral, threaded through the marrow of his thoughts.

Hux’s jaw clenched as he glanced over his shoulder, eyes narrowing into a glare that could cut glass.

He hated when Ren did that. Hated the way the man could slip past walls, past logic, past the armor of rank and rhetoric.

He sneered, the expression brittle with contempt, and marched off without a word.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

You stand there, completely confused.

Hux and Kylo aren’t speaking. Not a word. But the air between them crackles like a live wire.

They’re staring—locked in some silent, savage exchange. Eyes sharp. Posture rigid. Like two predators sizing each other up.

You shift your weight, suddenly aware of how quiet the room has become. You don’t know what’s happening but it puts you on edge.

Kylo’s head tilts slightly, a gesture that feels like mockery. Hux’s lip curls in response, all venom and restraint.

A conversation without words. A threat without sound.

Chapter Text

You watch Hux disappear out the door of the training room, his spine stiff with whatever pride he thinks he’s salvaged. You’re not sure who won that silent war between him and the masked man across the room—but it didn’t feel like victory.

The silence stretches, taut and uncomfortable.

Then the modulated voice cuts through it like a blade.

“Come stand before me, girl.”

You purse your lips, dragging your feet more out of principle than fear. The command grates. The word girl grates harder.

You are pretty sure he is your age, maybe a few years older. Definitely not ancient. So, the adolescent label feels less like a slip and more like a deliberate jab. A way to shrink you. Control you.

You stop a few feet away, arms crossed.

“You know I have a name, right? It’s—”

“I don’t care.”

The interruption is sharp. Final. Like he’s slamming a door in your face.

You blink, once. Twice.

“Dickhead”. You bit out under your breath.

His voice drops, sharp. “Watch your mouth, girl.”

“Stay standing. Do not move.”

You obey.

He begins to pace, stopping at intervals, raising his hand, lowering it. Again. Again. Like he’s testing something. Measuring invisible threads.

You want to say he looks insane. But you remember how easily he put his hands on you last time. How little it seemed to cost him.

His creepy masked face stares at you—longer this time, like he’s trying to read something written beneath your skin.

You flinch when his hand lifts. The memory of the officer he killed flashes behind your eyes—quick, brutal, final.

But nothing happens.

His fingers twitch in the air, then curl into a fist. He’s angry. You can feel it in the way he marches back toward you, boots heavy with intent.

He halts just an arm’s length away.

The silence stretches. Uncomfortable. Charged.

He lifts a hand, waves it in front of your face—like he’s trying to pull something from the air.

Then—without warning—he grabs your shoulders. His hands land on your shoulders—too hard, too fast.

“Hey, pal—” You try to shake him off, voice sharp with warning.

“Be still. I’m concentrating.”

You pull back. His grip tightens.

You pull harder until suddenly, he lets go.

He poises to yell at you again, but you cut in. Your anger getting the best of you.

“Hey. I may not know where I am or what the hell is going on, but I’m still a woman. And I’m getting really sick and tired of being manhandled.” Your voice is steady now, louder than his silence.

“Ever since I got here, you’ve been nothing but mean and aggressive. I don’t know who the hell raised you but I’m not some lifeless inanimate object you can toss around like a toy I’m a person!”

The silence that follows is electric.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. But you can feel the shift—subtle, seismic. Like the moment before a storm decides whether to hit or pass.

You hear his breathing under the mask, it’s heavy. Your mind flashes back to the officer he killed. Maybe you went too far.

His body is tense. Like his about to pounce.

You take a step back. Looking to defuse the potentially violent situation that your anger and frustration created.

“Look… I’m not trying to fight you,” you say, hands raised—not in surrender, but in clarity. “I’m just angry. Confused. I don’t know what’s happening, I don’t know where I am and you being rough with me isn’t helping.”

He doesn’t respond. But the tension in his shoulders shifts—fractionally. A crack in the armor. Not enough to trust. Just enough to notice.

You continue, voice steady now. “I just want to be treated like a person. I just want you to stop trying to hurt me.”

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Kylo shifts. A subtle step back. Not retreat—recalibration.

He breathes through his nose, sharp and uneven. The modulator catches the edge of it like static, like a storm trying to compress itself into silence.

Calm, he tells himself. But the word feels foreign.

She infuriates him and he doesn’t know why.

He’d dealt with nuisances before—rebels, spies, defectors. All of them predictable. All of them breakable.

But this girl?

Every time she opened her mouth, he felt his control loosening. Not just irritation. Something deeper. Something he couldn’t place. Something unsettling.

Her voice echoes in his head.

‘I just want to be treated like a person. I just want you to stop trying to hurt me.’

She is asking for dignity—and daring him to offer it.

His hands twitch at his sides. Not with rage. With restraint.

He breaths out letting the frustration go. He bows his head slightly. His body straightens and his shoulders drop.

 “I’m trying to reach you through the force”

“The force?” You question him confused.

Kylo lifted his hand slowly, deliberately—like he was approaching a frightened loth-cat. His voice was low, almost gentle.

“Just hold still.”

He waits and then she nods, wary but willing. A flicker of trust. Or curiosity.

He hovered his hands near the sides of her head, closing his eyes. Reaching out.

The Force surged around him—alive, electric. He could feel the crew moving through the corridors, the planets spinning in their orbits, the minds of strangers flickering like stars.

But her?

She was a seam. A gap in the weave. A silence where there should be sound.

He focused harder, brushing his fingers on the side of her head.

He stepped closer. As if proximity might bridge the void. The quiet was deafening.

“Why can’t I feel you?” he muttered aloud, frustration bleeding into confusion.

He feels her shift and hears her clear throat.

“Ugh, I think you’re feeling me pretty good right about now.”

His eyes snap open.

She was inches from him. His hands in her hair cradling her face. She looks uncomfortable. His body practically enveloping hers. When had he drifted so close.

He let go like he’d touched fire, stepping back fast.

Behind his mask a faint heat touches his face—cheeks, ears, neck. Red-hot and undeniable.

She raised an eyebrow and laughed awkwardly.

“Next time, maybe buy me dinner first.”

He said nothing.

But the silence between them had changed.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

You let the joke hang in the air, realizing too late that Earth idioms probably didn’t translate well here. Wherever here was.

He didn’t react. Or maybe he didn’t know how.

You cleared your throat, fingers smoothing your hair like armor. Trying to brush off the not so unpleasant feeling of his gloved hands cradling your head.

You blink up at him.

“If you tell me what you’re trying to do… maybe I can help understand what’s going on.”

He doesn’t answer right away.

Then, low and strained:

“I can feel everyone. Their minds. Their emotions. Their fears.”

You listen to his words, trying to make sense of them.

He can feel people. Hear their minds. Sense their emotions.

You blink your mind trying to catch up. ‘What the hell was he? An X-men reject or something?’

He continues, “But you… you’re quiet. Like static. Like fog.”

You swallow.

“Is that… bad?”

“It’s unnatural.”

You exhale, shaky, trying to make sense of the rules you didn’t know you were breaking.

“Maybe I’m just not broadcasting. Like I’m out of range or something.”

He tilts his masked head, studying you like a puzzle that refuses to solve. Or maybe like a threat that doesn’t know it’s dangerous.

You hesitate, then ask, voice barely above a whisper, “Do you think it’s because… I’m not from around here?”

The question had lingered for weeks, tucked behind every conversation with Hux like static behind a signal. You’d tried to ignore it. Rationalize it. But the maps he showed you—those star systems, those constellations—none of them matched the Milky Way. Not even close.

You had called Kylo Ren an alien before but a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach was making you think you were the stranger, the foreigner, the outsider, the alien.

The one who didn’t belong in the architecture of this galaxy

His masked face stares back—blank, unreadable. No comfort. No confirmation. Just silence.

You feel anxiety rearing its ugly head. The weight of too many questions, too much silence. You change the subject—fast, instinctive—to ward off another panic attack caused by existential dread.

“So this Force thingy…” you begin, casual but pointed, like you’re tossing a pebble into deep water just to hear the splash. “Is that what you did to that officer in the hallway?”

“You put the Force on him?” you ask, brows furrowed, trying to make sense of myth and muscle.

There was a pause. Then a soft crackle from his mask—brief, almost imperceptible.

A crackle. A fracture in the mask.

You blinked. ‘Was that—did he just laugh?’

He didn’t answer. But the silence felt warmer now. Less like a void, more like a held breath.

Chapter Text

“You put the Force on him.”

Kylo stifled the sound. The laugh almost escaped—almost. Her phrasing was so absurd, so wildly off-base, it nearly cracked through his composure.

She had said it like it was nothing. Like she hadn’t just casually referenced an ancient metaphysical power capable of bending the wills of men, crushing minds, and unraveling empires.

Any lingering doubts he had—any shadow of suspicion that she was a force-sensitive spy sent by Skywalker—it dissolved with that one phrase.

No trained operative would speak of the Force like that. No disciple. No threat.

She was completely clueless.

Maddeningly so.

She was just some lost girl, confused and alone. Who somehow was dropped into the heart of a war she had no part in. Claiming to be In a galaxy not her own.

He wasn’t sure what that made her

A liability.

A cipher.

Or something else entirely. Something the Force hadn’t warned him about. Something it hadn’t prepared him for.

His musings interrupted by her words.

“What? Is that not how it works?” she asked, half-curious, half-accusing.

He didn’t know what compelled him, but he felt the need to explain. To give shape to the thing that had shaped him.

“No,” he said quietly. “It’s not something you put on someone. It’s not a weapon. Not exactly.”

She tilted her head, unconvinced. “Ugh, tell that to the guy you folded like a lawn chair.”

Kylo’s fingers flexed at his sides. The phrase meant nothing to him, but the memory did. The memory of that officer’s arrogance—the assualt, the entitlement driven by rumors—ignited something ruthless in him. Something that didn’t ask permission.

“He deserved it.”

She nodded, slow and deliberate. “Yeah. He did.” Then, quieter: “Speaking of that incident… I forgot to thank you. So, uh—thank you. For saving me.”

‘Thank you for saving me.’

The words struck him—not like a wound, but like a truth he wasn’t ready to hold.

He liked the way they sounded. Hated what they implied.

He wasn’t a savior. He wasn’t built for gratitude.

And yet, here she was—offering it freely. Like he was something more than the sum of his violence.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

He was just standing there after your show of gratitude. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. So, you pressed forward—gently, deliberately.

If he wasn’t going to speak, you would. Maybe you could coax something real out of him.

“So,” you clear your throat “Is it magic?”

His mask gazed toward you, slow and unreadable. He didn’t move, didn’t speak right away. Just stood there, like a statue carved from tension and restraint.

You tilted your head, trying to soften the moment. “I mean, you do the whole dramatic cloak thing. You move stuff with your mind. It’s giving space wizard.”

A beat passed. Then another.

Finally, his voice—low, rough, like gravel softened by rain. “It’s not magic.”

You raised a brow. “So if the Force is not something you turn on and it’s not a weapon and it’s not magic. Then what is it?”

He didn’t answer. Just shifted his stance, arms folding behind his back with a quiet precision that felt ceremonial. He began to move—slow, deliberate steps that traced a wide arc around you, like a ritual. He looked like a monk contemplating the secrets to life while taking a stroll.

“It’s everything.” His voice was low, almost reverent.

“It binds the galaxy together. It moves through all living things. It’s instinct and emotion. Memory, anger, fear, pain. It’s the thread between what is and what could be.”

You blink as he explains the force so poetically. He made the Force seem like something spiritual.

You think back to the way his fingers moved—precise, deliberate, like he was shaping something unseen. You raise your hand and mimicked the motion. Though yours is clumsy, like a child trying to figure out their own limbs.

“Is this how you do it?” you ask, half hopeful, half embarrassed. Voice barely above a whisper. “How you activate the Force?

There’s a pause. Then—soft, unexpected—a chuckle. A real one. One he didn’t try to stifle.

“You’re serious,” he says, amusement threading through the gravel of his voice.

You lower your hand, cheeks warming in embarrassment.

“It’s not about activation,” he states.

He stops circling around you and turns his face to the wall. He raises his arm. Hand outstretched like he’s waiting to receive something. You hear a creak and then a groan of metal. You jump as a panel peels from the wall and then flys across the room smashing into the adjacent wall.

His mask looks at you “It’s about focusing.”

“That’s intense,” you murmur staring at the crumpled metal.

“It is,” he says, without hesitation. Arms moving back behind his back as he continues his circling of you.

You hesitate. Then, quieter: “What does it feel like? Being able to do that. All of it.”.

His masked gaze stays fixed on you. The silence stretches—not hollow, but humming.

“It feels like reaching into a current,” he says finally. “Fast. Unforgiving. Alive.”

You wait, sensing there’s more.

“Everything around you is chaos,” he continues, voice low.

You had more questions. Dozens, maybe. But your legs were beginning to protest, a dull ache climbing from your feet to your spine. You’d been standing this whole time, caught in the gravity of the conversation.

Speaking to him was like orbiting a star—dangerous, magnetic, impossible to look away. It was pleasant talking to him, especially when he wasnt trying to be violent with you.

Then a yawn broke though. The exhaustion finally catching up to you. The long day. The fitful sleep. The emotional whiplash of trying to read a man who didn’t want to be read.

“This has actually been really nice. Talking to you and learning. But can we pick this up tomorrow? I’m about to pass out from sleepiness.”

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Kylo looked at her—really looked. The way her shoulders sagged, the way her eyes softened with fatigue. Something had shifted. In her. In him. In the dichotomy between.

Her questions about the force. Her absence from it her hypothesis that it was because she was a stranger in his world began to come to the forefront of his mind.

He nodded once. “You’re dismissed.”

He pivoted on his feet and left the training room.  His mind was full of her—her voice, her presence, her strange absence in the Force. She was odd. Not just because the Force couldn’t find her, but because she didn’t seem to care that it couldn’t.

Then he remembered the moment he’d held her. Too close. Too long.

The way his heart had fluttered in his chest when she sarcastically told him he was touching her plenty and that he needed to buy her food first for some odd reason.

He didn’t understand it. She was an enigma cloaked in silence. He needed answers. He was headed to the lab Hux had established to determine her origins. He had questions and he might find answers in Hux’s meticulous notes.

He was brought out of his musings at the soft echo of feet behind him. He stopped. Looking over his shoulder. He sees her standing there. Following him. He clenched his fist not just at the annoyance of being followed but at the fact he hadn’t noticed.

She looked at him sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck like a kid who’d wandered too far from home.

“What are you doing?”,he asked irritated.

“Hey,” she said, voiced out softly slightly short of breath.

“I just realized I don’t know where I am. Can you walk me back to my room? Or maybe call Hux?”

xxxxXXXXxxxx

After he had dismissed you from the training room. You had walked out after him. He stomped away in one direction. You looked around and then realized you didn’t know where you were, and you didn’t remember the route you took with Hux.

You quickly doubled back and were able to see his cloak disappear around a corner. You practically jogged to catch up with him. Your boots squeaked on the floor as you almost tripped catching up to him. He stopped. Going still like a statue before looking over his shoulder at you.

He stared before finally turning around his fist clenched.

“What are you doing?”, his voice crackled under his mask.

“Hey,” you said short of breath.

“I just realized I don’t know where I am. Can you walk me back to my room? Or maybe call Hux?”

The silence of the hallway interrupted only by the hum of the lights above.

He straightened his posture and marched past you, cape flaring behind him. Going back the way you came.

“Follow.”

You blinked, then hurried after him, boots echoing in the quiet corridor.

His strides were long, purposeful—each step a silent command. You had to half-jog to keep up, your shorter gait working double time just to stay within reach. Your boots tapped rapidly against the polished floor, a staccato rhythm to his slow thunder.

“You walk like you’re trying to outrun gravity,” you muttered under your breath.

He didn’t respond. But his pace eased, just slightly.

They passed a pair of officers. One looked at you, then quickly away. No one spoke.

After winding hallways you finally reach your door in silence.

Kylo stopped at your door. Standing rigid, unreadable. A sentinel carved from shadow.

You stepped inside, pausing in the threshold.

You turned to him, eyes steady, voice quiet but deliberate.

“Thank you for walking me back.”

A beat passed.

Then you added, softer, “Goodnight, Kylo.”

The door slid shut.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Kylo stood there.

Same place. Same silence.

But something was different.

Her voice wasn’t dismissive this time. She’d told him goodnight again. Accompanied by his name without defiance. Just… gently.

This time it didn’t ignite a storm inside him. No heat. No fury. Just a quiet stillness.

A softness.

Peace.

He exhaled—barely audible—and turned on his heel, cape whispering behind him as he headed to the lab that held Hux’s notes on her.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Kylo entered the lab. The technicians froze mid-motion.

“I want all the General’s notes on her. Ready for review.”

They scrambled, boots echoing against metal, datapads retrieved with trembling hands. He ignored them, already moving toward the exam table.

Folded neatly atop it: black and bright yellow fabric. Her clothing. From the day she arrived.

His thoughts drifting back to how he tracked her in the snow. How they scuffled. The pain he felt when she kicked him in the groin.

The pain flickered back, sharp and humiliating. In all his battles, no one had ever gone for such a low blow. He’d been unprepared. Not physically but psychologically.

Then he thought back to how he had struck her in retaliation. He was trained not to feel guilt or remorse. But now, the memory replayed with quiet insistence. And shame crept in—unwelcome, persistent.

“Commander Ren,” a voice called. “All notes have been chronologized and are ready for your viewing.”

“Good. Now leave.”

After they had scurried out of the room. He removed his mask and sat at the database console. Bringing up Hux’s notes and starting at day one.

His eyes drifted to a stack of hard paper drawings tucked between the files. He pulled them out.

Crude, but legible. A spiral galaxy labeled Milky Way. Nine orbs circling a sun—Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto. A scribbled note in the corner: “Sadly demoted to dwarf planet.”

He frowned. Why sadness over a scientific reclassification?

Constellations followed—sketched with care, almost reverence. Primitive. Fascinating.

He turned back to the notes. Mentions of Earth’s limited space travel. Culture. Politics. A human species teetering between reluctant coexistence and annihilation. Nuclear weapons. MAD, they called it—Mutually Assured Destruction.

He turned back to Hux’s notes.

He reviewed the personal information. Then he got to her orphan status. How Hux succinctly noted she was nobody of importance on her planet and that she was alone. No close friends, no children, no husband.

His finger twitched. A flicker of something—relief, maybe—passed through him. She hadn’t left anyone behind. No ties. No prospects. No one to claim her.

She had arrived in his galaxy unmoored.

He buried the uninvited feelings and continued reading.

His brow furrowed at the oddities Hux had catalogued. First: her ability to play the violin. A rare skill, especially for someone without wealth or privilege. Second: Steve. Her pet rock.

Kylo blinked. A rock. Named Steve.

‘How does one make a rock a pet? he thought. And why Steve?’

He didn’t understand it. But something about it lingered—absurd, human, oddly endearing.

He moved on, reaching one of Hux’s final assessments. Clinical. Detached.

No known significance on her homeworld. Orphan. Unwanted/Never adopted. Unremarkable. Alone.’

The last word echoed.

' Alone.’

It reverberated through him. It stirred something buried—a part of him he had killed long ago.

Or tried to.

He wondered if she felt it too. The ache. The absence. The quiet hunger for something unnamed.

Was she as lonely as the boy called Ben?

As hollow as the man called Kylo Ren?

Did she crave the same unknown something— the thing he could never name?

‘No.’ He stopped his mind from wandering further, from touching what he had buried beneath rage, pain, and blood.

He didn’t crave anything but power. He was forged for it. He was here to bring balance to the galaxy, to silence the chaos.

This girl— Unseen by the Force. Unknown, unremarkable— meant nothing.

And yet— the file still lay open.

Her name still lingered. The one he refused to acknowledge.

And somewhere deep inside the armor of Kylo Ren— Ben Solo stirred.

Chapter Text

Kylo stared at the final line. ‘Alone.’

He could close the file. He should. But his hand remained still.

Instead, he reached forward and tapped an audio log. A recording. It was old, from weeks ago. One of the few audio files Hux had outlined for some reason.

Her voice spilled into the room, casual and cutting.

“Speaking of tall, dark, and scary… is he still here?”

Hux answered, clipped and cold. “He is away. Another assignment.”

“I’m not sure I want to be around him again,” she said. “Every time we’ve crossed paths, it’s ended with him putting his hands on me.”

Kylo’s didn’t know what he was feeling at her words. Anger, agitation, annoyance, guilt.

“Your instincts are correct,” Hux replied. “He is not… gentle.”

“Do you trust him?” she asked, voice low.

“I trust his power. Not his control,” Hux said.

“So he’s dangerous,” she murmured.

“Everyone here is dangerous,” Hux replied. “But he is… volatile.”

The recording ended.

Silence reclaimed the room. But the echo remained.

Volatile. Not trusted. Not gentle.

Kylo didn’t move. Didn’t speak. The shadows around him deepened, but it wasn’t the dark that unsettled him. It was the truth.

Kylo rose from the console slowly, the audio log still echoing in his mind. Her voice. The question: ‘Do you trust him?’

He hadn’t realized how tightly his fists had clenched until he turned and saw Hux standing in the doorway.

Smug. Still. Waiting. Analyzing

“Learn anything insightful?” Hux asked, lips curled in that practiced sneer.

Kylo’s jaw flexed. He wanted to strike him. Not just for his smugness but for the ease with which Hux had spoken with the girl about him. For the way he’d dissected Kylo like a specimen. For the fact that she said she didn’t want to be around him. He didn’t know why that bothered him.

“Volatile,” Kylo said, voice low.

“Is that a question,” Hux asked.

Kylo stepped forward, slow and deliberate. “Why are you discussing me with the girl.”

Hux didn’t flinch. “She asked a question I simply spoke truth about who you are. You are the one who barged into my lab and demanded my notes. You were given what you asked for.”

Kylo’s hand twitched at his side. He could silence Hux in a breath. But that wouldn’t erase the recording. Wouldn’t change the fact that she had felt unsafe around him. Yet she had thanked him and told him goodnight by name. If she feared him why ask so many questions of him. Was she simply being duplicitous like Hux? Was she manipulating him?

“She’s irrelevant,” Kylo said, though the words tasted like ash.

Hux raised a brow looking at his open notes. “Then why are you here still listening?”

Kylo didn’t answer. He turned, cloak slicing through the air as he strode out of the lab. The console behind him blinked, still open, still echoing.

He was halfway down the corridor before the fury settled into something colder. Not rage. Not even betrayal. Contamination.

She’d gotten in. Under his skin.  Into his thoughts

He had questions. Accusations. Was she working an angle? Feeding Hux information? Pretending to be curious while cataloging his weaknesses?

He was furious that he let some nobody. Some girl, get under his skin.

And yet—he couldn’t stop replaying her voice. The way she’d said “Every time we’ve crossed paths, it’s ended with him putting his hands on me …”

He hated that he cared.

She was irrelevant. She should’ve been. But her words had carved something jagged into him. Not because they were cruel—but because they were true.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

The Finalizer’s corridors pulsed with activity—officers, troopers, techs moving in tight formations, the hum of machinery and command. Kylo Ren cut through them like a blade, his cloak trailing behind him, his focus narrowed to a single point. Ignoring how they scrambled faster than usual out of his way.

He hadn’t realized he had wasted the entire sleep cycle combing through Hux’s notes. Every word she’d said. Every hesitation. He should’ve let it go. Should’ve dismissed her as irrelevant. But her words bothered him her actions of seeming interested in what he had to say bothered him.

He wanted clarity and he was going to find her and get it.

He had started at her room, but she was not there. Even though he could not sense her through the force— he could sense the void. When he reached and he strained past the noise, he felt it: the silence of her absence. He followed it through the ship. However every time he got close, she drifted away. A void that moved. Slippery. Elusive. She was in motion.

He’d forgotten—Hux had made her a custodial technician. Since she was on duty she didn’t stay in one place. She followed messes.

He stepped off the elevator. The silence was louder in the corridor. He finally found her in the stern of the Finalizer. She was alone mopping up a spill—something viscous and unidentifiable, probably coolant or blood. Her posture was relaxed, unaware of the storm approaching.

As he approached he heard her humming loudly. He slowed his pace as she began to sing.

Kylo froze.

The words drifted through the air. “Did you sail across the sun… make it to the Milky Way to see the lights faded...plain ol’ Jane told a story about a man who was too afraid to fly so he never did land…NaNaNa”

His lip twitched. Brief. Undeniable. She was terrible. Truly. Untrained, unpolished—her pitch wandered, her tone collapsed. Yet she sang out loud like she didn’t care.

Kylo stood there, silent, watching her mop in slow circles, her voice echoing off the metal walls. Something in him twisted. Not rage. Not shame. Something quieter. Something he didn’t have a name for.

He stepped forward, boots heavy against the floor. He was here to yell at her. Words he’d rehearsed—accusations, demands— evaporated under the tone-deaf pitch of her terrible singing.

She turned, startled, mop still in hand.

Their eyes met. She looked shocked then confused.

And for a moment, neither spoke.

xxxxXXXXxxx

Your feet were screaming. Not metaphorically—actual pain, radiating up your calves like betrayal. You’d been running ragged all shift, no break, no food, just one disaster after another. First, an officer had puked in the corridor outside the medbay. Then three toilets backed up simultaneously like they’d formed a union. Someone dropped an entire tray of stew in one of the mess halls, and now you were in the rear of the ship scrubbing what could only be described as greasy, sticky, mucus-like sludge. It smelled like engine oil and regret.

With no one around to hear, you let your voice drift into the quiet, humming along to an old song that surfaced from memory. You turned mid-verse and nearly screamed.

A man was standing behind you staring.

You blinked at him, confused. Was he lost? Waiting for you to move? Or maybe—maybe he was just deeply invested in your mop choreography. You shifted your weight, trying to read him, but he didn’t speak. Just stood there.

Tall. Dressed in black from neck to boots. And a cape. You tilted your head, taking in the way he held himself—like he was bracing for impact, or barely holding something back.

Agitation wrapped in control.

Then your breath caught.

Pale skin. Dark hair. That face. Those clothes.

The one from your faded memory. The one that flickered through your mind before the panic attack swallowed you whole. You’d only seen it for a second, half-obscured by fear and shadow, but now it was here. Real. Watching you mop.

Kylo Ren.

His creepy mask helmet was off. Just standing there in the hallway like a myth that had wandered into your cleaning shift. You took in his face. You had guessed right—he wasn’t some ancient warlord hiding behind a mask.

He wasn’t what you’d imagined. Not even close. You’d picture someone with features hardened by discipline and cruelty. But this? This was a face still finding its shape. There was softness in his cheeks. He was young. Your age, maybe a little older. Also he was actually…good looking.

And the hair. It was ridiculously nice. Thick, dark, and so absurdly fluffy it looked like it belonged to someone who had a personal hair stylist and never worn a helmet in his life. You had the sudden, irrational urge to touch it—just to confirm it was as fluffy as you thought it was and not some cruel trick of lighting and exhaustion.

You lean on your mop, staring. “So it’s black. I figured it was dark in color—black or maybe dark brown—but I didn’t get a good look last time.”

He blinks, confused. “What?”

You gesture toward the top of your head. “Your hair.”

xxxxXXXXxxxx               

She leaned on her mop her stance casual and unbothered.

“So it’s black. I knew it was a dark color. Either black or dark brown but couldn’t really remember. Didn’t get a good look last time” She squinted, then nodded to herself.

Kylo blinked. “What?”

She gestured toward her head casually as if commenting on the weather. “Your hair.”

And that’s when it struck him.

He hadn’t put his mask back on.

In the storm of rage—at the audio recording, at Hux’s smugness, at the way her voice had sounded behind closed doors—he’d stormed out bare-faced without it.

No mask. No distortion. Just him.

She was looking. Not recoiling. Not calculating. Just… observing.

Other than Snoke, Hux, and a handful of high-ranking officers, no one saw his face. No one was allowed to.

And yet here she was, leaning on a mop, talking about his hair like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he was just a person with dark hair.

Kylo didn’t move. Didn’t speak. The silence stretched between them, taut as a wire.

She didn’t fill it. Didn’t rush to apologize or pretend she hadn’t noticed. She simply stood there, steady and unbothered.

And for the first time in a long time, Kylo Ren felt the weight of being seen. Not as a weapon, not as a legacy—but as a man.

Chapter Text

“So this is called a cellphone,” you begin, holding it up. “Where I come from, it’s a communication device. You can send messages, make calls, browse the internet, buy things, look at pictures, take pictures, make videos, listen to music, and download games to play.”

You flip the phone around and tap the screen. Nothing happens. The battery’s long dead.

“I’d show you, but I don’t think you have the kind of charger I need.”

You set it down and pick up the headphones next. The wired kind—your favorite. You always liked the ones with cords. They made it obvious you didn’t want to talk to anyone.

“These are headphones. Or earphones. You put the buds in your ears and connect them to a device—like the cellphone—and you can hear audio. Music, podcasts, whatever. They come in different sizes and colors.”

You place them beside the phone, then reach for the watch. Your dad’s pocket watch. The glass face is cracked, but it still ticks. Still keeps time.

“This is a watch. You use it to tell time. On Earth, we have 24 hours in a day. This one’s a 12-hour clock—it splits the day into morning and afternoon.”

Your voice softens.

“It belonged to my father. It was one of the only things that survived the wreck. The cops just dumped a plastic bag in my lap after I woke up and said, ‘These are the personal effects from the vehicle.’”

You trail off, staring at the watch. Then flip open the back cover.

“…But actually. This is them.” You lean over to show the General.

Hux watches silently. His expression unreadable.

Inside, is a photo. A man and a woman. A little girl—probably you. A boy beside her, smiling.

“Noted,” he says. “Thank you for your assistance in naming these devices.”

You hold the watch a little closer to your chest.

You turn to Hux, “Can I keep it? I promise it’s nothing dangerous.”

He stares at the timepiece. It ticks softly in the quiet.

“You may keep it,” he says, turning back to his desk.

“We are through for the day.”

xxxxXXXXxxxx

You nod and leave Hux’s office.

With the rest of the day off, you decide to stretch your legs and wander. Eventually, you end up in an unfamiliar hallway—quiet, echoing, sterile. You pass through an archway and step into a room lined with towering glass windows and pillars that stretch all the way to the ceiling. There is a large hanger like door on the other side but the windows are more interesting to you.

You drift toward the window, staring out into space.

It’s vast. Quiet. Dark. And honestly? Disappointing.

Every window you’ve seen offers the same view: jet-black nothingness. Space wasn’t nearly as beautiful as the pictures back home—no swirling nebulas, no dazzling constellations. Just a few scattered specs of light, swallowed by endless darkness.

You sigh and turn to leave—then freeze.

A man stands behind you. Dressed in black. Masked. Helmeted.

For a second, you thought it was Kylo. But no—he’s shorter. Still tall, but not Kylo tall. His robes are also different. His mask has a grid pattern across the front, polished enough to reflect your distorted face back at you.

He tilts his head, like he’s listening for something. Then steps closer.

You step back.

Before you can even process the first intruder, five more sweep in—each cloaked in black robes, masked like they just stepped out of a cult-themed fashion show. They’re outfits are similar, but not identical. Like someone copy-pasted menace six times and gave each a slightly different flavor of doom.

You blink. Seriously what is it with this place and the mask obsession? Maybe you should ask for one. Just to blend in.

You clear your throat, trying to break the tension. “Uh… hello.”

You gesture vaguely at their outfits. “Are you guys Kylo’s friends? Or… fans?”

The one with a mask featuring sharp, angular side panels and carrying a rather big looking rifle strapped to his chest snorts. You can’t tell if he’s amused or offended.

You’re about to duck left and bolt when the grid-mask guy grabs your arm.

“Hey—don’t touch me!” You yank back.

“What are you?” His voice is deep. Too deep. Like it comes from somewhere below the floor.

You lift your foot and kick him square between the legs. He lets go with a grunt, and you spin to run—only to find another masked freak blocking your path. This one has an X slashed across his faceplate.

Behind you, the one you kicked growls. You glance back and see him straighten, fury radiating off him.

He takes a step toward you—

“Enough!”

The voice cuts through the room like a blade.

You turn. Kylo Ren stands in the doorway. Mask on. Cloaked. Commanding.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

The meeting had ended. The Knights dispersed, silent as shadows, slipping down the corridor toward the private launch bay where the night buzzard waited—ominous, cloaked, and humming with restrained violence.

Kylo remained behind, still as stone. His gloved finger brushed against the bottom of his mask. He still was contemplative about how he had carelessly exposed his face to you. He had been so agitated by Hux and the audio recording he had marched through the halls to confront you. Once he had found you. He was thrown off by your terrible singing. Then you turned and saw his face.

The memory of you flickered—your voice, your eyes, that maddeningly casual remark about the color of his hair. No opinion. No reaction to how he looked beneath the mask. Just a nod, as if confirming a trivial fact in a maintenance log. He felt agitated by your lack of reaction, and he did not know why.

He had then stormed off before anything else could be said. Before anything one else witnessed his face unmasked.

His musings were interrupted when he felt it.

A ripple. Vicrul.

The disturbance was subtle, but sharp—like a blade dragged across glass. Vicrul’s emotions were usually a storm of static, but now they spiked with something else. Confusion. Agitation. Anger.

And then— You.

Your presence in the Force was a paradox. Not light. Not dark. Just… nothing. A void. A quiet absence that pulled at him like gravity.

He turned sharply, cloak flaring behind him, and began to march.

The corridor blurred past him. Pillars. Shadows. Steel. He didn’t need directions. He followed the pull.

He entered the room like a thunderclap.

His Knights stood in a loose circle, surrounding you. You looked small, defiant, furious. Vicrul was recovering from a blow.

“Enough!”

His voice cracked through the air like lightning.

The Knights froze. You froze.

Six masked heads turned toward him in unison. You turned too—eyes wide, breath caught.

Kylo stepped forward, slow and deliberate. The tension in the room shifted, coiled tighter. He didn’t speak again. He didn’t need to.

The Knights bowed.

You didn’t.

Of course you didn’t.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

You turned as Kylo entered the room, his mask back in place. A part of you was disappointed. You’d seen his face now—seen the man beneath the image—and the mask felt like a retreat.

The six masked figures immediately filed into formation and bowed.

Kylo’s voice cut through the room, low and final. “You have been given your assignment. Leave. She is none of your concern.”

They bowed again, then turned toward the far end of the room. You watched as the large hanger door marked with yellow lines slid open, revealing a spacecraft beyond—massive, weathered, and menacing. It looked like it had survived a dozen wars and was hungry for more.

But one of them lingered. The one you kicked in the nuts.

The one with the grid-patterned mask stayed behind, staring at you.

You let out a nervous laugh and instinctively stepped back—just enough to position yourself slightly behind Kylo.

The man didn’t move. Kylo’s masked face turned toward him. The other masked face turned toward you. Then back to Kylo.

A silent exchange passed between them.

The man nodded, brought his fist to his chest, and bowed. He glanced at you one last time—something unreadable in the tilt of his head—then turned and followed the others through the door.

It sealed shut behind them.

A moment later, you heard the muted thrum of engines. Then silence.

They were gone.

And you were now alone with Kylo.

You open your mouth to speak but he cuts you off.

“Why is it,” Kylo said, voice low and edged with dry amusement, “that you can’t seem to stay out of trouble?”

You looked up at him, arms crossed, defiant. “Hey, I was minding my business,” you said. “Then that weirdo fan club of yours came out of nowhere. One of them grabbed me!”

Kylo’s head tilts slightly, the kind of gesture that says he’s either intrigued or calculating.

You mirror him, tilting your own head in exaggerated mockery. You weren’t going to get yelled at again for simply defending yourself.

“What is it with all you masked men around here grabbing women?” you huffed. “What are you all, cavemen? Just waiting to throw some poor woman over your shoulder and march off to your lair?”

There was a pause. Then Kylo replied, voice dry as desert stone.

“Given your propensity to kick men between the legs, I doubt many would be lining up to drag you off anywhere.”

You snorted. “Good. You can call me Nutcracker from now on.”

There was a crackle beneath his mask. A sound—brief, low, unmistakable.

He laughed.

Not loudly. But enough to make you feel more comfortable around him.

You glanced back at the hanger door, still lingering on the masked figures who’d just left.

“But seriously,” you said, “who are those guys? Are you like in a space cult or something? Matching outfits, dramatic helmets.”

Kylo snorted—a real one this time—and turned back toward the window you had been staring out of earlier. You followed, arms crossed, still riding the wave of your own sarcasm.

Silence stretched between you, thick and starless.

“They are my Knights,” he said at last.

You blinked. “Knights?”

You tilted your head, squinting at him. “So... are you like some kind of king?”

He didn’t look at you. “Close,” he said. “And yet also far from the truth.”

You rolled your eyes. “Cryptic,” you muttered, turning back to the stars—or rather, the lack of them.

The void outside was vast, cold, and quiet. And somehow, it matched the mood perfectly.

“What were you doing in here?” Kylo’s voice cut through the quiet, low and demanding.

You turned toward him, unbothered. “Just roaming. Found the windows. Thought I’d see something beautiful.”

You gestured at the void beyond the glass. “But it’s just empty. Cold. Quiet. It’s disappointing. Where I’m from they have all these bright and colorful pictures of what space looks like. But here it’s just nothingness.”

He stepped closer, arms folded behind his back. “We’re at the edge of the Outer Rim of the galaxy. The unknown regions,” he said. “There’s nothing out here but darkness and isolation”

You sigh disappointed. “What a bummer. I wish I could see more.”

Then, without thinking, the next question rolls off your tongue. “Have you seen beautiful sights in space? My coworkers say you fly your own ship a lot.”

“They do do they,” he repeated, eyes still fixed on the few faded stars beyond the viewport, though you could feel his attention shift entirely to you.

You swallowed. “I mean… I didn’t ask them directly. It just sort of came up. In passing.”

He turned his head slightly, just enough for the light to catch the edge of his mask. “And what else do they say?”

You hesitated. “That you fly alone often. That you disappear for long periods of time. That I should avoid your lightsaber when its drawn—whatever that means. Oh, also that you can walk through walls.”

He scoffs. A sharp, amusing sound that makes your stomach flip.

“You believe that?”

You exhale, watching the faded distant stars flicker faintly beyond the glass. “Well… you do have a habit of appearing out of nowhere. But honestly… ever since I got here, met you, saw all this space madness—walking through walls doesn’t seem like that far of a stretch. I feel like my grip on reality, or at least what I thought reality was, is fluid depending on the day.”

Kylo turns his head slightly, the light catching the edge of his mask. He studies you for a beat, then looks back out at the void.

“I hate to disappoint,” he says, voice low, almost amused, “but I can’t walk through walls.”

You glance at him, half-smiling. “You say that like it’s the least unbelievable thing about you.”

He doesn’t respond, but the silence feels deliberate. Like he’s letting you sit with the idea that maybe—just maybe—there are things he can do that are even stranger.

You look back out at the emptiness you circle back to your question “So have you? Seen anything beautiful out there?”

“Not in the unknown regions but in other areas of the galaxy…sometimes.”

You nod your head. “Hey, maybe you could show me sometime. It’d be nice to get off this ship.”

He turned toward you, helmet tilting slightly. “You want me to take you to see stars?” His tone was incredulous. “Who do you mistake me for?”

You rolled your eyes. “Well fine then. I’ll ask Hux if he will take me. He can fly, right?”

Kylo snorted. “Only if wish to fly into a collapsed star”

You burst out laughing. That was funny. And for a moment, you caught it—just beneath the mask. A crackle of true amusement. A flicker of something human.

You liked that.

That he had a side like this.

Even if it was buried under layers of command, armor, and galactic doom.

Chapter Text

You hurried down the corridor, boots echoing against the polished floor. Hux had summoned you mid-shift, no explanation, no delay. The scent of cleaning solvent still clung to your sleeves.

As you reach his office, an officer brushed past you in a rush, eyes down, expression tight. You stepped aside, then leaned into the doorway, peeking in to make sure you weren’t interrupting.

He was seated behind his desk, perfect posture. Gaze already lifted to meet yours.

“You wanted to see me?” You asked while entering his office.

“Yes,” Hux replied, crisp and direct. “I’m informing you that you’ll be accompanying me off-ship.”

Your mind stuttered. ‘Off-ship?’

You blinked, thoughts racing back to your conversation with Kylo—half-teasing, half-hopeful—where you’d asked him to take you sightseeing through the stars. Had Hux overheard or found out somehow? Was this connected?

“Really?” You questioned.

“There’s an envoy traveling to the planet Rohis,” he continued. “We’re renewing our alliance with the ruling family. A treaty signing.”

“A military treaty?” you asked, brow furrowed. “Why would you want me to come?”

Hux stood, moving around the desk with deliberate grace.

“A reward for your cooperation thus far,” he said. “I felt you deserved more leeway.”

You studied him, suspicion flickering beneath your shock. It didn’t feel like a reward. Not entirely. But the chance to leave the ship—to feel air, ground, nature—was too tempting to question.

Then your eyes dropped on your janitorial uniform. You weren’t exactly sure what was worn at a treaty signing but you had a feeling it wasn’t custodial clothing.

“Uhm… I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Appropriate attire will be provided,” Hux said, already anticipating the concern. “I’ve commissioned it.”

You nodded, trying not to grin. A part of you wanted to call him Fairy God-General, but you wisely kept that to yourself.

“I’m excited to go. Thank you.”, You reply.

Hux went back to the documents he was reviewing. “We depart tomorrow after mid-cycle. You’re dismissed”

You walked the corridor back to your station, boots echoing against polished metal. Your mind was running a mile a minute. The weight of it hadn’t settled yet—the fact that you were about to step onto and visit a planet. Something people back on Earth only dreamed of—whispered about in stories, imagined in telescopes. You wondered what it would look like. What the air would taste like. What the people would sound like. Would they speak a different language, or would they even look like humans?

You turned the corner and saw your crew gathered, half in rest, half in readiness. They looked up as you entered—eyes sharp, expressions unreadable, curiosity flickering across their faces like static.

“Apparently, I get to go to a treaty signing,” you said, trying to sound casual.

“On Rohis?” Bren asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah. I’ve never been to another… been to that planet. Are you familiar with it?” You caught yourself, remembering Hux’s warning.  You weren’t allowed to speak about where you came from. Hux had made it clear. Your planet, your galaxy, your past: off-limits.

“We haven’t been,” Tallis said. “But I’ve heard it’s nice. They built most of our fleet. Industrial planet. Famous for metalwork.”

You imagined it—smokestacks, molten steel, a planet that looked like the golden age of the industrial revolution reborn in alien architecture.

“So what are you wearing?” Tallis asked, eyeing your uniform.

You shrugged. “The General said he commissioned something.”

“Knowing him,” Bren snorted, “It’s probably drab and symmetrical. He’ll have you blending in with the walls”

You laughed.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Kylo swept down the corridor, cloak trailing like smoke behind him. Hux had summoned him to discuss final modifications to the Rohis treaty—another diplomatic performance in a galaxy that, in Kylo’s view, only responded to power.

Diplomacy was theater.

And he had no patience for actors.

His boots struck the floor with purpose, but his thoughts drifted—unbidden—to her.

The girl.

Her encounter with his Knights still echoed in his mind. The absurdity of it. She’d gone from fleeing him through the underbelly of the Supremacy, collapsing in panic, whispering to Hux that she feared him… to asking him—Kylo Ren—to take her aboard his ship and show her “beautiful sights.”

He wasn’t sure if she had memory issues.

Or if everyone from her planet was simply that bold. That flippant. That erratic in their thoughts—ricocheting between fear and fascination like it was instinct, not contradiction.

He didn’t understand her.

And that unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

He entered Hux’s office without preamble. No knock. No pause. Just the hiss of the door and the weight of his presence flooding the room like smoke.

“Commander.”

“General.” Kylo’s voice was curt, clipped.

They locked eyes.

No warmth. No pretense.

“The Supreme Leader has emphasized the strategic importance of Rohis,” Hux began. “When we arrive, you’ll ensure the fleet they’ve promised meets our specifications.”

Kylo resisted the urge to roll his eyes—not that Hux would see it beneath the mask. He didn’t need a lecture on fleet inspections. He had submitted the schematics. The ruling family knew better than to cross him.

Kylo turned as the door hissed open behind him.

A lieutenant stepped in, clutching a garment like it might explode. The moment his eyes met Kylo’s mask, the fear hit—sharp, immediate, almost tangible. The man didn’t speak to him. Didn’t dare.

He crossed the room quickly, handed Hux the folded item, and muttered, “Shoes will arrive this evening.”

Hux nodded and dismissed him.

The lieutenant nearly tripped on his way out. Boots skidding against polished metal in his rush to escape Kylo’s presence.

Kylo’s gaze dropped to the garment in Hux’s hands.

A dress.

Dark grey. Structured. Simple. Diplomatic.

“Trying for a new image, Hux?” Kylo said, voice dry.

He saw the vein in Hux’s neck twitch in annoyance.

“Satisfying’. Kylo thought to himself.

“It’s for her,” Hux replied. “She’ll be joining the envoy.”

Kylo’s eyes narrowed, “What.”

“I wish to observe her in an environment more akin to her home world. And I believe rewards like this will encourage her continued cooperation.” Hux continued.

Kylo didn’t like it.

Didn’t know why he didn’t like it.

But he didn’t.

The idea of Hux commissioning a dress for her—of dressing her up, parading her through a treaty signing like some exotic curiosity—made something twist in his chest.

“You suspect her of being from a foreign galaxy. You keep her status classified, buried beneath layers of secrecy—and yet you want to dress her up and parade her through a diplomatic envoy?”

Kylo stepped forward, the edge in his tone sharpening.

“Her—strangeness—on full display to be whispered of. Asked questions she’s not able to answer. That is foolish as well as a waste of time and resources”. He scoffed, the sound low and contemptuous.

“Your opinion is noted,” Hux said coolly. “Fortunately, the Supreme Leader agrees with me.”

He pivoted back to his datapad, voice clipped, unaffected.

“As I was saying, you’ll meet with the Prince and ensure the fleet—”

“I know my assignment,” Kylo snapped, cutting him off. “I don’t need you to repeat it.”

He turned sharply, cloak flaring like a storm behind him, and strode out without another word.

The door hissed shut.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Hux remained still, eyes narrowed.

Ren’s reaction had been sharper than usual—volatile, even for him.

He looked down at the dress still folded in his arms. Dark grey. Structured. Unassuming. But suddenly, it felt like more than fabric.

Was it the envoy that agitated Kylo Ren? The possibility that she might speak—might reveal something about her origins?

Or was it simpler?

Was it the idea of her being seen?

Her absence from the Force was not lost on him. Ren had described her presence as a void—unreadable, unreachable. She couldn’t be bent or manipulated. At least not through the Force.

And that, he suspected, was what truly unsettled Ren.

Perhaps that was the root of Ren’s irritability.

The inability to control her the way he could choose to control everyone else.

The thought had crossed Hux’s mind more than once.

If she truly came from another galaxy, and if others there were like her—untouched by the Force—then what would that mean for men like Ren?

Beings like Snoke?

It would render their abilities useless.

It would make them feel what Hux had always felt.

Simply human.

He did not know if Snoke’s permission to explore her origins was genuine curiosity—an appetite for a new frontier—or quiet preparation for the elimination of a threat.

But he knew one thing for certain.

She rattled Ren.

Possibly Snoke.

And that made her more valuable than anything in the First Order.

More dangerous, too.

Hux’s lips twitched—just shy of a smile.

“Interesting.”

xxxxXXXXxxxx

The end of your shift had come, and you were finally back in your quarters. The air was still, quiet—until the door chimed.

A guest.

You opened it to find a robot standing in the corridor. You still weren’t used to seeing them. Its polished frame gleamed under the overhead lights, joints whirring softly as it extended a package with mechanical precision.

“Thank you,” you said, voice low.

It beeped—sharp, brief, almost conversational.

You still hadn’t decided whether it was speaking in code to you or just making beeping noises. With a smooth pivot of its wheels, it rolled away, vanishing down the hall.

You closed the door.

The box was light in your hands but deliberate in its weight. Sealed with a strip of silver foil, it looked more like a diplomatic offering than a delivery.

You placed it on the table, peeled it open, and unfolded the contents.

Fabric spilled out like smoke.

The skirt shimmered in metallic gray—fluid, sleek, catching the light like moonlight on steel. The top was tailored with a high collar, reminiscent of officer uniforms, buttoned neatly to the waist before splitting into panels of fabric that would drape over the skirt like ceremonial armor.

You lifted the second piece: a shawl, or perhaps a cape. Feminine in cut, diplomatic in tone. It reminded you of the casual and cultural attire from Earth. The similarities between your home and this unnamed galaxy were not lost on you. Theories spun in your head most nights—quiet, spiraling questions of how and why.

You look back at the dress—structured, elegant, yet soft. It wasn’t fancy but it wasn’t completely muted either. It felt like the business formal attire of space ware.

You looked back in the box. At the bottom, nestled like a final whisper, were black flats.

Clean.

Familiar.

A quiet mercy.

You exhaled.

Whatever this upcoming treaty signing event held, at least your feet would survive it.

Chapter Text

You studied your reflection, wishing for a curling iron or flat iron—something to tame the wild edges. But with what you had, you’d braided your hair back into a low bun. It held. Barely.

Tallis had gifted you what she called lip paint—dark red, sealed in a tiny jar like contraband. You dipped your finger, carefully pressed the color onto your lips.

Once you felt you were ready you headed to the hanger.

You made your way down to the departure area, heart ticking faster than your steps.

Inside the hanger stormtroopers moved with precision, loading gear onto the shuttle. Officers in sleek black uniforms stood in clusters, their posture rigid, their expressions unreadable. The officers uniforms were sleek, polished, more ceremonial than the standard ship attire. Everything gleamed. Everything meant something. These weren’t the standard crew—they were polished, elite. Their uniforms gleamed, their boots clicked, and their silence was practiced.

You saw stormtroopers and officers begin assembling, boarding the command shuttle in practiced formation.

You felt a little queasy but the excitement outweighed nausea.

You were going to see a new world. To breathe real air. To stand on ground that wasn’t cold hard steel and black stone.

You shifted, adjusting the shawl draped over your shoulders.

Then you heard them.

Footsteps. Sharp. Coordinated.

You turned.

Hux approached, surrounded by four officers.

One was a woman—her attire mirrored yours in structure, but hers shimmered in a metallic champagne hue. She barely acknowledged you as she passed, chin high, eyes forward.

The three men behind her wore ornate uniforms—medallions glinting on their chests, capes trailing behind them like banners. They looked like statues carved from ambition and rigidness.

Then Hux.

His uniform was tailored to perfection. Medallions. A cape—smaller, draped over one shoulder. And at his waist: a weapon. A blaster is what they call it.

You’d never seen him armed before. You wondered if it was ceremonial or practical.

He stopped in front of you, eyes scanning your attire.

“Ah. I see your attire is most appropriate.”

You smiled, resisting the urge to laugh. Possibly the most bureaucratic compliment you’d ever heard.

“Thank you. It’s very lovely. It actually reminds me of dress attire from my world.” You explain.

Hux nodded, filing the detail away like a data point.

Before he could respond—

The atmosphere shifted.

A mass of black fabric swept into the hanger bay.

Kylo Ren had arrived.

His masked presence swallowed the space.

He didn’t speak.

He didn’t need to.

He was gravity.

You watched the ripple effect as he entered.

People froze. Others looked away. Even the officers—those polished statues—shifted subtly, as if his presence bent the air around them.

Kylo Ren didn’t wear his usual long-sleeved tunic and flowing cape today.

Instead—

A long black robe, cut close to the body. A wide leather belt bisected his torso, emphasizing the tension in his frame. His cape no longer trailed behind him like smoke. Instead a hood draped low, clinging to him like a shadow, fabric wrapped around his neck and shoulders like a scarf.

The outfit didn’t soften him. It made him look contained. Like something dangerous had been compressed.

You caught a glint of something metal at his hip. It didn’t look like the blaster Hux had. It was something else. Something you weren’t familiar with.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t acknowledge Hux.

But he did glance at you.

Brief. Unreadable.

Then he turned— not toward the shuttle like the others, but in a different direction.

You watched him disappear down a walkway, while the rest of the crew began to board the shuttle.

You gestured toward the direction Kylo had vanished down.

“Is he not coming?” You ask.

Hux frowned, eyes narrowing as if the question itself was inconvenient.

“Unfortunately, yes. He’s chosen to utilize his own personal ship.”

Hux then guides you toward the command shuttle.

You boarded.

Inside, the seating was arranged in a precise grid—military efficiency masquerading as comfort. You were directed to a seat, beside the champagne-clad woman.

She glanced at you. A nod. You returned it with a small smile.

No words.

But you wondered what she was thinking. What they all were thinking.

Your custodian crew had never been subtle. They gossiped freely about what others thought of you— some thought you were a spoiled officer’s daughter, others whispered you were sleeping with Hux or Ren, or both.

But after Kylo had brutally ended that handsy officer, you suspected they’d keep their opinions to themselves.

The flight stretched long. Silence filled the cabin like fog.

Eventually, you felt the drop— the shift in gravity as the shuttle pierced atmosphere. You could feel your ears pop at the change in pressure.

The voice over the comm announced arrival.

You leaned toward the window, heart quickening. On the shuttles approach you saw sprawling buildings. Deep valleys, oceans and mountains. It almost looked like home. If it wasn’t for the alien architecture, it didn’t look much different than Earth.

A new world.

Real sky. Real air.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Kylo boarded his TIE fighter without ceremony.

He thought back to the girl in her dress.

It was distinctly Hux—professional, demure, unassuming. He scoffed.

He couldn’t help but think the gray didn’t suit her. In his eyes, it dulled her.

He closed the hatch on his ship. The cabin illuminates red.

He then thought of the red on your lips. It was deep, bold, and eye catching.

Kylo didn’t wait for clearance. He throttled the engine.

The fighter roared to life, slicing through space heading toward the atmosphere of Rohis.

Another mind-numbing diplomatic pro forma awaited.

But his thoughts lingered— not on the treaty, not on politics

On her.

Her and her red lips.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Once you touched down on the planet the envoy was greeted by a welcoming party and escorted to the palace.

As you entered the palace you were amazed. It was ornate and spectacular. It made royal palaces on Earth look like a cheap apartments.

Then everything happened in rapid succession.

You stood close to Hux as the signatory party was introduced to the royal family. The king his wife and their two children.

You were still shocked at learning that one man ruled an entire planet. The concept was surreal in comparison to home. Earth was fractured, divided, tangled in borders and bureaucracy.

The King was handsome older man. He was charismatic, loud in his pride, and eager to impress. You listened as he spoke to Hux and the woman in the champagne dress. Who you’d just learned was Admiral Vireen.

Rohis, the king boasted, was the galaxy’s premier shipbuilder. Their metalwork was unmatched. Their loyalty to the First Order, unwavering. He spoke of something called the Resistance with disdain— called them terrorists, saboteurs, cowards.

You’d heard whispers of the name back on board.  When you first arrived, you had even been accused you of being one. But you still weren’t sure who they were. From what you could gather the First Order seemed like a galactic military. You assumed they were tasked with protecting the galaxy. Kind of like a police force. But you hadn’t really bothered to learn more.

Your thoughts drifted back to the palace.

The grand hall you stood in was a marvel— vaulted ceilings, crystalline chandeliers, walls inlaid with metals that shimmered like starlight.

It really did make the palaces on Earth look quaint.

Your eyes then drifted to the royal family.

The queen was elegant, her posture regal but warm. The daughter—tall, stunning, with pale white hair and crystal violet eyes, she looked bored but was feigning politeness. She gravitated toward Admiral Vireen and Hux, engaging just enough to be courteous.

Then the son.

He was tall—nearly Kylo’s height, maybe taller.

Immaculately dressed, his long white hair pulled into a half-bun, the rest cascading over his shoulders like silk. His eyes were a deeper violet than the rest of his family. He looked surreal. If he’d had pointed ears he would have looked like an elf cosplayer. He was very handsome. Beautiful even.

Then he looked at you—

You froze having been caught staring.

He smiled at you. Giving a nod. Polite. But something in it felt personal.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks.

You looked away. Suddenly, the room felt too full. Too bright.

Maybe you should find something to eat. Or somewhere quieter. Somewhere you weren’t staring at handsome princes.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

You excused yourself from the gathering, murmuring something polite and forgettable.

You made your way to the food area. It was quieter.

You scanned the spread—some things looked familiar: bread, spreads, something that resembled cheese. Others were alien—glowing, gelatinous, or spiked.

You reached for a blue, prickly object. It looked like fruit. It fit in your palm, cool and firm. The barbed exterior looked like a shell—maybe it was like a mango or dragon fruit. Something to be sliced open and peeled.

You looked around for a knife. None in sight.

A servant passed by, clearing plates. You followed, intending to ask for one—

But a cluster of dignitaries swept past, cutting you off.

You turned a corner, trying to catch up—

And stopped.

You were on an exterior walkway, lined with marble pillars that framed the night like a cathedral.

You gasped.

The view was otherworldly.

You walked to the railing, still clutching the strange fruit.

Below: in the distance the city shimmered in soft golds and silvers, like molten metal poured into streets. Above: the sky was a canvas of deep blues. Stars glittered like embedded jewels.

And there— a moon perhaps. But not just a moon like on Earth.

It had rings. Wide, greyish white, luminous.

“Amazing,” you whispered wishing your phone was with you so you could take pictures.

Then a scoff broke the silence.

You turned.

Kylo Ren stood just beyond the nearest pillar, half-shadowed by the architecture. His arms were crossed, his scarf like cloak draped like coiled smoke around his shoulders and head.

His mask was on.

The chrome lining of the mask caught the moonlight, reflecting nothing but menace.

He didn’t move.

Just stood there.

“You’re impressed by such a trivial sight” he stated.

His voice was filtered, mechanical— a distortion that made everything sound like accusation.

You glanced back at the sky.

“It’s beautiful.”

A pause.

“You think stars and frozen rock deserve reverence?” he asked.

You looked down at the fruit in your hand. Still unopened. Still unknown.

“Where I come from,” you said, “only a handful of people ever get to go to space. Things like this”—you gestured to the view—“they aren’t normal. They aren’t common.”

“This view is amazing it makes me feel content and awe inspired”, you tell him.

He stepped forward, slow and deliberate. His arms at his side now.

“Feelings are distractions.”

You snorted.

“Anyone ever tell you that you are a mood killer?‘

He didn’t respond.

Just stood there.

Watching.

You look back up at the night sky.

“Does anything ever make you stop?” you asked quietly. “Take a step back and just… enjoy the simple things around you?”

You sigh.

“Before I ended up here, I felt empty. On Earth, after I lost my family… I just drifted. I kept hoping things would get better, but they didn’t. I got older, and nothing changed. I was just going through the motions.”

You looked down at the fruit in your hand.

Still unopened.

Still unknown.

“Then I wound up here. Somehow. And now I feel awake. More alive. Being in this galaxy, so far from home, looking at this view—it makes me feel something I haven’t felt since I was a kid.”

The mask didn’t move.

But something in the air did.

A shift.

A tension.

He didn’t answer.

And yet—

He didn’t leave. He stayed.

Silent.

Listening.

Chapter Text

The silence hung between you like fog—thick, unmoving. His mask was turned toward you. You couldn’t see his eyes, but you felt them. Watching. Measuring.

He didn’t speak.

But he didn’t leave.

You exhaled, acknowledging the stalemate. He wasn’t going to answer. Not with words.

So you let it go.

You held the fruit up between you, its barbed shell catching the moonlight like glass shards. “Do you know how to open this?”

No response.

The mask stared back—blank, impenetrable, a fortress of chrome and silence.

You pursed your lips, looked down, tried twisting the fruit open. It didn’t budge. You huffed through your nose, frustration mounting. Your gaze flicked to the stone railing. You raised the fruit, ready to smash it against the edge—

Then his hand closed around your wrist.

No warning. No sound.

His other hand took the fruit from yours, gloved fingers precise, deliberate. You froze.

He hovered one hand over the shell.

The fruit split cleanly down the seam, as if responding to an invisible blade. Not magic.

The Force.

He held it out to you.

You took it.

Pulled the halves apart. Inside, the blue spiked shell cradled pale purple flesh—translucent, soft. It reminded you of lychee. Familiar. Strange.

You bit into it.

The flavor bloomed—sweet, slightly sour, like mango kissed with frost.

You smiled, licking juice from your thumb. “It’s good. What’s it called?”

He didn’t answer right away.

You could feel the hesitation behind the mask. The internal debate. Did this count as meaningless conversation?

“Virellan fruit,” he said finally.

You nodded, savoring another bite.

“Why are you out here?” you asked, glancing at him. “Shouldn’t you be rubbing shoulders with the royal family?”

“My job is to ensure the fleet they provide meets combat standards,” he said. “I did. They do. I’m done.”

You laughed.

A real laugh.

“Should’ve figured. I kind of suspected you weren’t the political-diplomatic type. Where I’m from, people like you don’t usually mingle in large crowds”

He tilted his head slightly. “Oh? And what type would I be?”

You grinned. “Probably the ‘sign this treaty or I’ll beat the shit out of you’ type.”

Silence.

Then—barely perceptible—the mask shifted. Not a movement, exactly. More like a pause that held shape. As if something behind it had almost smiled.

Almost.

Not enough to break character.

But enough to let you know he’d heard you.

And maybe—just maybe—he liked it.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Prince Hamla watched from the edge of the hall, half-shadowed by the marble archway. His gaze locked on the masked figure and the woman with red lips speaking to him—smiling, even. Laughing.

Kylo Ren.

The tyrant.

The butcher.

Hamla’s jaw clenched. His fingers curled into a fist at his side.

He despised the First Order. Had despised it from the moment his sniveling father pledged allegiance to them three years ago, trading sovereignty for survival. That day, Hamla aligned himself with the Resistance. Quietly. Strategically. Permanently.

But his hatred for Kylo Ren ran deeper.

Ren was responsible for the death of someone dear to him.

His precious Miloa.

She had been a healer—gentle, brilliant, tending to the wounded in a neutral outpost. When the First Order descended, led by Ren himself, they burned it to the ground. Called it a stronghold for Resistance sympathizers.

Hamla’s breath hitched. He forced it down.

His eyes shifted to the woman now standing beside Ren. Her red lips curved in amusement as she spoke to the masked monster. So gleeful. So comfortable in his presence. As if she didn’t know who she stood beside.

Or worse, as if she did.

Their contact embedded within the first order had sent word and details around the envoy coming to Rohis for the treaty. The contact said she was important. Tied intimately to General Hux or Commander Ren. Maybe both. Allegedly. The report claimed Kylo Ren had killed an officer for her. That she would be part of the envoy for the treaty signing. That she would be wearing red lip paint.

And here she was.

Talking to Kylo Ren like he was a man worth speaking to. Like he wasn’t the reason people like Miloa were turned to ash.

No one spoke to Kylo Ren. Not even his own officers. They kept their distance. They feared him.

But she didn’t.

She smiled.

He opened her fruit for her.

‘Whore’ is all he could think.

As only a woman of ill repute would willingly stand beside him.

Hamla checked the time. It was close.

Across the room, his sister caught his eye. She nodded—barely perceptible—and began to move, slipping through the crowd like smoke.

The Resistance was about to strike.

And Hamla had sent the order himself.

The event hall, full of first order high ranking officials and his despicable parents would burn.

Just like Miloa’s outpost.

Only this time, it would be justice.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

‘The ‘sign this treaty or I’ll beat the shit out of you’ type.’

Her voice echoed in his mind, sharp and irreverent.

Kylo was glad for the mask. Without it, the curve of his mouth might’ve betrayed him.

Ever since she arrived, she’d stirred things in him—anger, frustration, curiosity, and confusion. And now this. A feeling he hadn’t touched in years.

Amusement.

He registered it like a foreign object—light, flickering, unwelcome. A precursor to joy. He frowned beneath the chrome lined mask. That was dangerous.

She awakened something in him he’d buried long ago. A part dulled by duty, scorched by legacy.

She made him want to laugh.

Not the hollow kind—the sharp exhale of disbelief or cruelty. But real laughter. The kind that lifted the chest. That made the soul feel less like a weapon.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt the want to laugh.

Not since before the mask.

Before the name.

Before everything became a battlefield.

And now, with her standing there—grinning, irreverent, unafraid—he felt the flicker of it. A pulse. A possibility.

And that unsettled him more than anything.

His posture softened. Arms beginning to unfold.

Then—

A shift.

A ripple in the air.

Conviction. Rage. A presence.

He tilted his head, sensing it before it fully formed.

A threat.

And without hesitation, he lunged at her.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

You watched him. He looked like he was about to say something.

His posture softened. His arms began to unfold.

Then—

He froze.

Head tilted.

Like a guard dog catching a scent.

Your brow furrowed “What—”

But you didn’t finish.

Because in the next breath, he grabbed you.

Hard.

Pulled you toward him, then over the balcony.

You barely had time to scream.

Pain lanced through your back as you hit the bushes below, then rolled onto the ground, breath knocked from your lungs.

Above—

BOOM.

The skywalk erupted in rubble and flame.

Glass shattered. Stone cracked. The air roared with heat and smoke.

You blinked up at the chaos, ears ringing.

Kylo was beside you, crouched like a predator, cloak billowing in the shockwave.

He scanned the horizon, already calculating.

Already hunting.

You sat up, wincing.

Your back screamed, but your eyes locked on Kylo.

He was already on his feet—rising like a shadow into the smoke.

As if the fall had been nothing.

No stumble. No hesitation.

Just motion.

He reached to his waist and yanked something free—metal, jagged, unfamiliar.

Then—

Snap-hiss.

You gasped and flinched as red light exploded into the night.

It wasn’t just a blade.

It felt like rage made visible.

It crackled, unstable, pulsing like a living thing.

You stared, breath caught.

You’d never seen anything like it before. It was some kind of laser shaped like a medieval knight sword.

Never seen him like this.

His masked face turned and looked at you.

“Stay hidden,” he commanded, voice sharp, distorted through the mask.

Then—

Without warning—

He leapt.

Straight up.

Over the balcony.

Over the ledge.

Almost fifteen feet of sheer stone.

You gasped.

“Wait—you can fly?” You shouted, staring wide eyed as he disappeared above you.

You scrambled to your knees, heart pounding.

Smoke curled above. Shouts echoed in the distance.

But all you could think about was the red light.

And the man who’d just defied gravity.

Chapter Text

You finally steady yourself, breath hitching as you step back and glance over the wall Kylo Ren just flew over—or leaped or vaulted. You were starting to think you needed to make a list of all the things he could do.

Because if flying is on the menu, what’s next?

Breathing fire?

Hurling lightning like he’s Zeus.

You shake your head, half in awe, half in exasperation.

The roar of engines tears through the air, and you instinctively cover your ears. Overhead, the sky is ablaze—ships streak past in tangled pursuit, firing bursts of red light that slice through the smoke. Explosions ripple across the horizon. Smaller crafts dive toward the palace, unleashing chaos.

Screams echo through the courtyard, mingling with the sharp crack of weapons and the thunder of collapsing stone. You can’t tell who’s attacking, only that it feels like a war scene ripped from a film—death and destruction swallowing everything.

Then—a hand clamps around your arm.

You flinch, heart racing, and turn to see the prince.

“Come with me.” He demands.

You hesitate.

Kylo told you to stay hidden. But the prince is an ally of the First Order. Someone who should, by all logic, be safe.

You follow him.

He leads you swiftly through the courtyard, away from the palace. You glance back once—just in time to see a tower crumble under another explosion.

“What’s happening?” you ask, breathless.

He slows, releasing your arm. His gaze drifts upward before settling on you, unreadable.

“Judgment.”

You blink.

Confused.

Something in his eyes unsettles you—too calm, too cold.

“The First Order will pay,” he says. “It will fall.”

From beneath his robes, he draws a dagger—sleek, sharp, and glinting in the firelight.

“He took from me,” he murmurs. “So, I will take from him.”

Your stomach drops.

Eyes wide, you whisper, “Oh shit.”

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Kylo lands hard on the shattered walkway—where moments ago, he’d stood beside her. Fire licks at the rubble around him. The stone groaned beneath his boots.

 Resistance fighters emerged from the haze, flak jackets marked with their insignia.

They fired on him.

He raised a hand. Blaster bolts freeze midair, then whip back—four men drop.

Another fires. Kylo deflects the bolt with his saber, advancing. His strikes are precise, merciless—limbs fall, bodies crumple. One fighter, hand severed, scrambles for his blaster. Kylo flings him through a marble pillar with a flick of the Force.

He storms into the ruined event hall. First Order officers lie wounded or dead.

Resistance fighters fire from cover. Kylo lifts them with a snarl, slamming them into the wall. Their bodies drop, limp.

Stormtroopers part as he marches through the wreckage, their armor streaked with soot and blood. The air is thick with smoke and the scent of burning metal. His boots echo against fractured stone.

Ahead, General Hux kneels over Admiral Vireen.

Kylo slows.

Hux’s bloodied hand pulls away from her throat. Her body is limp, eyes wide, staring lifelessly at the ceiling. Her mouth is slightly open, as if the last breath she took was still trying to speak.

“Our fleet will be descending into the atmosphere shortly,” Hux says. “It seems the Resistance has infiltrated Rohis. The King and Queen are dead.”

Kylo watches as Hux snaps his fingers. The princess is dragged forward—dust-streaked, defiant. “She was caught trying to detonate the newly commissioned fleet. The hangar is secure now.”

Kylo steps closer.

“You pledged loyalty to the Resistance. You killed your parents. What else are they planning?”

She lifts her chin. “The First Order will fall. My parents bent the knee to tyrants. I won’t.”

Kylo tilts his head. “‘My parents,’” he echoes. “...but not your brother?”

Her eyes widen—realizing too late her slip of the tongue.

Kylo doesn’t move, but the air around him shifts.

Charged. Predatory.

He steps closer to the princess, slow and surgical.

“You should choose your words more carefully,” he says. “They betray you.”

He turns to Hux. “Where is the prince?”

Hux snarls. “Missing.”

Kylo turns back to her. “You’ll tell me everything I want to know. Or I’ll take it.”

Her voice is steel. “Burn in the pits of Mustafar—like your grandfather should have.”

Hux’s eyes widen. A flicker of shock.

Kylo doesn’t move.

But the air shifts—dense, electric, dangerous.

His mask tilts slightly, as if recalibrating the moment. As if weighing whether to strike, to invade, to destroy.

“You know who I am,” he says, voice quieter now. “And you still choose defiance.”

She doesn’t flinch. She spits on him.

Kylo steps closer, ignoring the spit on his mask.

The shadows stretch.

Hux instinctively backs away.

“You’ll regret that,” Kylo says.

Kylo doesn’t flinch.

He raises his hand.

The Force coils around her skull, invisible and merciless. Her breath catches. Her knees buckle. He doesn’t wait for permission. He tears through her mind like a blade through silk.

Memories flood in—fractured, frantic, defiant. Years of betrayal. Secret meetings. Data traded. A spy—unnamed, faceless—embedded deep within the First Order, feeding the Resistance from the inside. Plans for the palace attack.

And then—Prince Hamla. Speaking of Kylo’s weakness. A woman. One he has killed for. One who will be on the envoy. Lips painted red.

Kylo pulls back, eyes blazing. They were also targeting the girl.

Anger swells in his chest, his fists tighten at his side.

“Keep her detained. She will need to be interrogated once back aboard. There’s a spy in our ranks.”

“What!” Hux sneers in anger.

He turns, cloak swaying around his shoulders.

“Where are you going?” Hux asks.

“To find the girl,” Kylo says.

“And kill the prince if I have to.”

xxxxXXXXxxxx

You stumble back, heart pounding. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Who is ‘him’?”

Hamla’s eyes burn into you. “Kylo Ren. You are his lover, are you not? I see how you look at him. How he allows you near.”

He steps closer, voice low and venomous. “I am no fool. You mean something to him. And you will die for his sins. For his cruelty. He will feel what I felt when he took the life of the one I loved.”

Your mind reels. This prince—this grief-stricken, furious prince—was about to kill you because he thought you were Kylo Ren’s paramour. His weakness.

“Hey,” you say, hands raised, voice trembling but firm. “I’m sorry for whatever they did. But I’m not who you think I am. I’m not…involved with Kylo in that way.”

Hamla circles you like a predator. “You seek to mislead me, you duplicitous harlot.”

Something inside you snaps.

What was it with this galaxy? Why did every person assume you were a whore the moment you stood near him.

You are starting to wonder if Kylo Ren was some kind of galactic space playboy. That it was just common knowledge that women in his orbit were sleeping with him.

Was that it?

Was that why they assumed you were sleeping with him?

Or was this strange galaxy just pathologically committed to insulting you?

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Hamla’s grip tightens around the dagger, knuckles white with fury. He would not be deceived.

Kylo Ren valued her. He was sure of that—and for that, she would bleed.

He lunges at her, seizing the shawl of her dress, yanking her close. The blade kisses her throat, sharp edged drawing blood. He pulls back and raises it high, ready to drive it into her chest.

But she moves.

A flash of defiance—she bites his hand, hard. He cries out, staggering as she drives her knee between his legs. He folds inward, clutching himself, gasping.

She tears free, the shawl ripping as she crashes to the ground. Scrambling backward, breath ragged, eyes wide.

Hamla snarls, stepping forward—

Then freezes.

A low chuckle echoes from the flames.

He turns.

From the smoke and ruin, a black specter emerges—cloak trailing ash, chrome lining of his mask gleaming.

Kylo Ren.

“How very pathetic you are, Hamla,” he says, voice like a blade drawn slow.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Kylo stood still, watching the prince inch closer to the girl. She sat on the ground, clutching her neck—blood staining her fingers. Her breath was shallow, her eyes locked on Hamla’s blade.

“If you take another step,” Hamla snarled, pointing the dagger at her, “I’ll end her life.”

Kylo tilted his head, voice cold. “You presume to think I care.”

From the ground, she shouted hoarsely, “Hey! You ass.”

Hamla sneered. “Liar.”

Kylo’s masked gaze didn’t shift. “You can try to kill her. But from experience…” His voice was low, deliberate, each word weighted with memory.

He stepped forward, slow and unyielding.

He remembered the first time they met in the snow on Starkiller Base—how she fought him, how she ran. The way she twisted from his grasp when she tried to escape aboard the Supremacy, desperate, defiant. She hadn’t begged. She hadn’t broken.

“She won’t go quietly,”

She staggered upright, clutching her wound. “You are officially the worst rescuer I’ve ever seen.”

She looks at Hamla. "See? I told you I'm not his lover. What kind of man in love shows up saying shit like that."

Kylo felt a brief smirk tug at his lips behind the mask. He didn't respond.

Kylo’s turned his gaze back on Hamla. “Your treachery has earned you nothing. Your father and mother—dead. Your kingdom—burning. Your sister—detained.”

He was close now. The fire behind him cast his shadow long across the stone.

“All of this and for what.”

Hamla’s face twisted in rage. “You tyrant. You monster. You murdered my love when you burned the outpost down!”

Kylo tilted his head. He remembered the incident. But he was not the one to burn the outpost.

“How foolish of you. I did not burn the outpost. The resistance did. They fired on us blindly and hit the reactor”

“Liar!” Hamla yelled at him.

Kylo’s voice dropped, lethal. “How does it feel knowing you serve the very people who killed the one you claim to mourn?”

Hamla lunged.

Kylo raised a hand.

The Force snapped around Hamla like a vice. He froze mid-motion, suspended in motion, eyes wide with fury and fear.

Kylo stepped closer, gaze unreadable.

Then—he looked past Hamla.

The girl stood silent. Disheveled. Blood crusted at her throat where the prince’s blade had kissed skin.

Kylo turned back to Hamla and reached into his mind.

The prince’s thoughts unraveled—familiar conversations, echoes of his sister’s memories. Then the girl. The plan. Break Kylo by hurting her.

Kylo snorted, low and derisive. “So that was your plan,” he said, voice curling with contempt. “Hurt her to hurt me.”

He brings Hamla to his knees before him with the Force.

Kylo stepped closer, slow and deliberate. He leans down until his masked face hovered near the prince’s ear.

His voice dropped to a whisper, colder than space.

"Your punishment for defying the First Order is death. But understand this—never, not for a moment, were you in a position to take her life. Had I believed you were, I would have pried every bone in your body through your skin while you still breathed"

He straightened.

With a hiss, his lightsaber ignited—the crimson blade pulsing like a heartbeat in the dark.

Kylo stepped back.

And swung.

The prince’s head fell, severed cleanly from his shoulders. He heard the girl gasp behind him.

Then silence followed, heavy and absolute.

Chapter Text

Kylo left the destroyed event hall, his mind a storm of betrayal and suspicion.

The prince and princess—traitors. And somewhere within the First Order, a spy had fed rumors of him and the girl to those who would use it against him.

He retraced his steps to where he’d ordered her to stay hidden, but the space was empty. Frustration flared hot in his chest. He’d told her to stay put.

A scream cut through the chaos, sharp and unmistakable. He moved, swift and silent, following the sound. He found Hamla, dagger drawn, one hand clutching at the girl’s dress as she struggled against him. He saw blood on her neck.

Rage surged in his chest. He raised his hand, ready to stop Hamla with the Force, but before he could act, the girl surprised him by fighting back. Biting Hamla’s hand then driving her foot hard between his legs.

Kylo felt his lip twitch. A flicker of reluctant amusement surfacing.

She was reckless, stubborn, and—he had to admit—he admired her refusal to be a victim.

The memory of their first meeting on Starkiller Base flashed through his mind: her defiance, her kick to his own groin. He was beginning to think she took a certain satisfaction in kicking men between the legs.

He stepped forward, making his presence known, cloak trailing through the smoke.

The prince would die—not only for his betrayal of the First Order, but for the audacity to think he could be manipulated so easily.

Rage sharpened his focus, every movement deliberate, every thought edged with violence.

There would be no mercy, no hesitation. The prince’s fate was sealed the moment he dared to cross him—the moment he thought he could claim the girl’s life as leverage.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

You watch as Kylo freezes Hamla mid-lunge, his body jerked to a halt—dangling helplessly in the air, limbs twisted like a puppet yanked by cruel, invisible strings. The Force coils around him, suffocating and unseen, crushing the fight out of him. Instantly, you’re mind rolls back to that corridor on the ship.  Where you witnessed Kylo use the Force. The sickening crack as he shattered the officer’s fingers and arm—the one who tried to violate you—before snuffing out his life.

No hesitation. No mercy.

Kylo moved towards Hamla, forcing him to his knees. The prince trembles, defiant and terrified. Kylo bends low, whispering something into his ear. You can’t hear it. But whatever it is, it drains the color from Hamla’s face.

Then he steps back.

With a sharp hiss, his sword ignites—red light blazing, fierce and hungry. In a single, fluid motion, the blade arcs through the air.

Before you can look away, Hamla’s head is severed from his shoulders in a single, merciless stroke. It strikes the ground with a sickening finality, the echo of his body collapsing thunderous even as war rages around you

You gasp, recoiling as bile rises in your throat. The horror of what you’ve just witnessed claws at your mind, and you squeeze your eyes shut, desperate to erase the image. Violent scenes like this always drag you back to the worst night of your life—the car crash that stole your family away. You force yourself to breathe, struggling to compartmentalize, to shove the memory aside.

Kylo strides past you, utterly unmoved by the corpse at his feet.

“Come,” he commands, his voice cold and distant.

You stare at his back as he walks away, the ground trembling beneath you from distant explosions. You’re left trying to piece together the chaos, your mind reeling as explosions in the distance make the ground tremble.

His words echo in your mind—cold, dismissive: You presume to think I care… You can try to kill her.

Anger flares in your chest. “Were you really just going to let him kill me?” you demand, voice trembling with fury.

Kylo stops and turns.

You stare into the blank, unreadable mask, the fires raging around you casting jagged shadows across its surface.

His voice is low, modulated, clipped. “I told you to stay hidden.”

Your eye twitches at his tone, as if your near-death was nothing more than the inevitable consequence of your own choices. You glare at him, defiant. “Well, excuse me for thinking the people you were about to sign a treaty with weren’t the kidnapping and killing type. I’ll keep that in mind next time. Maybe I shouldn’t trust anyone—just assume everyone’s out to kill me.”

He meets your gaze, his mask cold and impenetrable, voice like ice. “Correct. Trust is weakness. You would be wise to remember that.”

He turns away, his hooded shawl catching the wind. “Now come. Or I truly will leave you to die.”

You glare after him, anger simmering beneath your skin.

“Ass,” you mutter under your breath—too quiet for him to hear, but sharp enough to satisfy yourself.

And yet, despite everything, you follow.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

You walk beside Kylo through the wreckage, the air thick with smoke and silence. His sword is deactivated, but the memory of its red light still burns behind your eyes.

Anger simmers within you—not just at the prince for trying to kill you, but at Kylo, for standing there, unmoved, almost encouraging the chaos.

“You were really just going to let him kill me, weren’t you?” you ask, your voice low and sharp.

He doesn’t stop walking. You stare at the back of his mask, waiting for any sign of remorse. Nothing.

Then, without turning, he finally responds, “He was never going to kill you.”

You almost laugh at the absurdity. You touch the raw edge of your neck. “Tell that to the wound on my neck.”

He stops and turns.

Before you can react, his hand is on your chin, tilting your face up. His thumb brushes your neck—slow, deliberate, careful not to aggravate the wound.

You shiver, not from pain, but from the unexpected gentleness of his touch. It’s one of the few times he’s ever been gentle with you—the last was in the training room, when he tried to sense you through the Force.

You can’t see his face, but you feel the weight of his stare. His closeness, the touch on your neck, reminds you of how starved for comfort you’ve been. Even before being pulled into this strange galaxy, weren’t just alone on Earth—you were lonely, isolated in ways you never let yourself admit

A part of you aches to reach out, to hug him, just for a moment of basic comfort. But you bury the feeling, blaming it on trauma and the chaos swirling around you. You drown it in sarcasm.

“So,” you say, voice light, pulling away slightly, “am I going to die?”

He lets go. “So dramatic,” he mutters. “You’ll be fine.”

He turns and walks away. You follow, heart pounding, determined to ignore the lingering sensation of his touch.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Kylo stopped and turned. The chaos of the battlefield fading into the background as he focused on her. The anger in her voice lingered, sharp and familiar, but beneath it he sensed something more—a vulnerability she tried to hide.

Without thinking, he reached out, his gloved hand finding her chin, tilting her face up so he could see her wound more clearly. His thumb brushed gently over the raw edge, careful not to agitate the cut.

She shivered, and he felt the tremor travel through her. It wasn’t fear or pain. It was something else.

Her presence was a void in the Force, quiet and calm. The last time he’d been this close to her was in the training room, when he’d tried to sense her through the Force and found himself drawn in, closer than he’d intended.

She still felt like an empty void, surrounded by nothing but quiet. Yet that silence was soothing. Calm. A peace he hadn’t known since childhood, before the Force had awakened in him. When he lost the quiet and the galaxy came crashing down on him—loud and chaotic.

He stared at her, searching for something beneath the surface. For a fleeting moment, he caught it—a flicker of softness, something achingly vulnerable that called to a part of him he tried to keep buried.

But just as quickly, she buried it, masking herself with sarcasm, her voice light as she asked, “So, am I going to die?”

He released her, the warmth of her skin lingering on his glove longer than he cared to admit. “So dramatic,” he muttered, trying to sound indifferent. “You’ll be fine.”

He turned away, jaw clenched, forcing himself to focus on the chaos ahead.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

You followed Kylo into the shattered event hall, the air thick with smoke and silence. Bodies were being pulled into orderly lines by troopers—civilians, dignitaries, guests. The resistance fighters, though, were left where they fell.

No ceremony. No grace.

Your eyes caught on a flash of champagne silk.

The woman from the transit. The one who’d smiled at you briefly. She was an admiral if you remember correctly.

She was dead. Her dress torn, her face pale, her body already cooling in the line.

“I see you’re alive,” came a voice behind you, flat and unfeeling.

You turned. General Hux.

“Gee, thanks,” you muttered. “You sound thrilled.”

He didn’t respond. You didn’t wait.

Kylo passed by, his cloak trailing ash, his mask reflecting the light. He moved toward the detained princess—Hamla’s sister—who knelt between two troopers.

“You will tell us who your contact within the First Order is,” Kylo said, voice like stone. “Or you will die like your brother.”

She screamed. A sound torn from the gut, raw and broken. Grief fractured the air, echoing off ruined walls.

You stood there, throat tight, torn between anger and empathy. Yes, her brother had tried to kill you over a rumor, and the fear still lingered in your veins. But as you watched the princess collapse under the weight of her grief, you couldn’t help but feel for her.

You still didn’t understand what was happening, who was right or wrong, or why any of this had to happen. Whatever their motives were, they must have believed in them enough to risk everything, to bring about so much death and devastation.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Kylo and Hux drifted off, voices low, their silhouettes framed by the fractured grandeur of the ruined event hall. You stood alone amid the wreckage—bodies lined with eerie precision, the scent of ash and blood thick in the air.

Confusion pressed in from all sides, your body aching and your head pounding. This was supposed to be your first trip to an alien planet, but it had ended in chaos and violence. You found yourself wishing desperately for the safety of the ship, for the mindless comfort of mopping floors in the quiet of space.

Among all the chaos, a thought scratched at the back of your mind, refusing to let go. How had Hamla known about the rumor involving you and Kylo? Did the First Order frequent Rohis so often that gossip traveled all the way to the royal family? You were almost certain that rumor had only existed on the ship. The uncertainty made your skin crawl.

Your thoughts were interrupted with the sound of a commotion. Instinctively, you turned—just in time to see the princess shove into you, her desperation wild and unpredictable. You stumbled back, breath catching in your throat

Stormtroopers seized her, dragging her down while Hux stormed towards them, barking orders that barely registered.

A blade clattered to the floor in front of the princess—bloody.

You looked down.

At first, it didn’t register. Just a dark stain blooming across your dress, spreading with impossible speed. Then came the warmth, the wetness, the pain—a sharp, burning ache that stole your breath.

You touched it, almost in disbelief. Your fingers came away red, and the world seemed to tilt, confusion and terror crashing over you as you realized what had happened.

You looked up. Hux was staring at you—or maybe not. Your vision blurred, edges softening, the world tilting dangerously.

“Oh no,” you whispered, panic clawing at your chest as your knees buckled beneath you. The words barely escaped, lost in the haze of pain and confusion.

Strong, steady arms caught you as you sank to the ground

You looked up.

It was Kylo’s face.

Real. Uncovered. Unreadable.

Chapter Text

“You killed the prince before we could interrogate him,” Hux snapped, voice sharp with restrained fury.

Kylo Ren didn’t flinch. “He was of no consequence. I already took what I needed from his mind. If you’re so eager to make a spectacle, use the princess.”

Hux sneered, but before he could retort, Lieutenant Mintaka stepped forward.

“General Hux. Commander Ren. The fleet has descended. Boarding preparations are underway. The Resistance has fled the atmosphere.”

“Are our scouts in pursuit?” Hux asked.

“Yes, sir. Some are tailing through hyperspace. We anticipate one of their pilots will be careless enough to lead us back to a base.”

Before Hux could respond, a commotion broke out.

The princess was struggling against the stormtroopers.

Hux turned, irritation flaring. He strode toward the scene, voice rising. “I thought I ordered her restrained. Put her in—”

She broke free.

Charged.

Straight at the girl.

The troopers reacted too late. They dragged the princess down, pinning her to the ground. A dagger clattered across the floor—small, ornate, bloody.

Hux’s eyes snapped to the girl.

She stood frozen, shock washing over her.

Then he saw it.

A patch of red blooming across her lower abdomen. She touched it, looked at her fingers.

Her eyes lifted to his.

“Oh no,” she whispered.

Her knees buckled.

Hux moved instinctively—but stopped.

A blur of black intercepted her.

Kylo Ren.

Maskless.

Cradling her in his arms like she was something sacred.

Hux stared, stunned.

Ren didn’t speak. Didn’t look up.

Just held her.

Blood soaked through her gown.

Hux shook himself from the stupor.

The girl needed aid.

“Medic!” he barked, voice echoing through the hall.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Kylo watched Hux turn, striding off to deal with the princess and the stormtroopers who had failed to restrain her.

He scoffed, already pivoting to leave. He’d join the scouts himself—track down the Resistance stronghold. Something useful. Something distant. The girls presence was distracting him.

Then the gasps and shouts.

He turned.

The princess had broken free—lunging at the girl.

Kylo saw her stumble back, saw the stormtroopers finally react, dragging the princess down and pinning her to the ground.

A dagger clattered to the floor.

Kylo froze.

The girl stood still, her back to him. Then her hand moved—slow, uncertain—toward her stomach.

He moved before his thoughts could catch up.

His mask hit the ground as he lunged forward, catching her just as her knees buckled. He lowered her gently to the ground, cradling her in his arms.

Then he saw it.

Blood.

Seeping through the front of her gown, near her left side. Dark. Spreading.

The princess had stabbed her.

The girl looked at her fingers—slick with red—then up at him.

Her eyes were wide. Panicked. Wet with tears.

Kylo’s breath caught.

He heard Hux shouting for a medic, but the sound felt distant.

All he could see was her.

Bleeding.

And the way she looked at him like he was the only thing keeping her tethered to this world.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

You stare at the blood on your finger.

The pain blooms slowly, like heat rising through skin. It’s not the wound—it’s what it unlocks.

Suddenly, you’re back in the car. Reliving the worst night of your life.

Your little brother beside you in the back seat. Your parents up front, laughing as they drive home from the movies. Then the impact. Metal shrieking. Glass exploding. The car rolls.

You scream for them.

No answer.

Panic claws at your chest. Your mind tries to show you the memory you hate most. You fight it. Your breath comes in ragged pants.

Focus.

You start the grounding exercise you were taught as a child in foster care. The 5-4-3-2-1 technique.

Five things you can see: Hux and his red hair. Stormtroopers. A broken chandelier. A shattered pillar. Kylo Ren—holding you.

Four things you can feel: Your feet. The breeze. The ground beneath you. Kylo’s arms around you.

Three things you can hear: Hux yelling for a medic. Trooper armor clinking. Kylo’s breathing—steady, close.

Two things you can smell: Ash. Leather.

One thing you can taste: The sour tang of the fruit you had eaten, a piece still caught in your back molars.

The panic begins to fade.

You see the medics rushing in, but Kylo doesn’t let go. You’re grateful. Your mind has locked onto him like an anchor. Grounding you in the moment. Staving off the panic.

Pain flares again as the medic pulls at your clothing.

“Look at me.” Kylo’s voice cuts through the haze.

His gloved hand gently holds your jaw, guiding your gaze away from the wound.

You look up.

His mask is gone.

Black hair, slightly wavy. Beauty marks scattered across his face.

They’re… cute.

No wonder he wears the mask. His face wouldn’t scare anyone.

You reach up, fingers brushing his cheek.

“Your moles are cute.”

Your eyelids grow heavy. Your arm slackens as Kylo catches your hand.

You smile faintly. “Worst field trip ever.”

The medic says something, but you don’t hear it. You’re tired.

Kylo steps back, but stays in your line of sight.

You’re lifted onto something solid. A stretcher. You feel the shift in motion.

Kylo’s eyes never leave you.

His fingers touch your cheek—

And then everything goes dark.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

“Medic!”

Jax, head of the 3rd Infantry Division’s medical unit, tapped four of his men—those not already elbow-deep in triage—and rushed toward the general’s voice.

General Hux pointed to the woman on the ground.

Commander Ren was holding her.

Unmasked.

Jax stiffened. He’d never seen the man’s face, only the mask. But now Ren knelt there, cradling the girl like she was something sacred. A bloody dagger lay nearby. The princess was restrained. Jax didn’t need a full report—he could read the scene well enough.

He dropped to his knees, medbag already open. One of his men sliced through the fabric around the wound. Ren removed his hand, and blood surged out. Jax poured sterile water over the site, clearing the mess to assess the damage. Another medic scanned the wound.

“Penetrative trauma. Muscle damage. Can’t confirm organ or artery involvement. There’s scar tissue—old.”

Jax pulled the dress wider. She whimpered. The scar was real. He’d note it for medbay.

“Look at me.”

Jax glanced up—Ren wasn’t speaking to him. He was holding her jaw, gently. Too gently for a man like him. She looked at him, dazed.

Jax ignored the moment.

“Sedative and bacta injector,” he ordered.

The sedative went into her thigh. She cried out as Jax pressed the bacta into the wound. Ren held her steady, his grip firm but careful.

She reached up, fingers brushing Ren’s jaw.

She murmured, voice thick with sleep. “Your moles are cute.”

Jax blinked. If he weren’t a trained professional, he’d be gawking.

Ren didn’t flinch. He let her touch him. Then gently took her hand.

Jax sealed the wound with a bacta patch. “Prep the stretcher.”

His men moved quickly. Ren still hadn’t let go.

The girl smiled faintly. “Worst field trip ever.”

Jax swore he saw amusement flicker across Ren’s face.

Clearing his throat, Jax spoke carefully. “Sir, we’ve stopped the bleeding, but she needs to be moved. The scar tissue’s obstructing our scan. Medbay can confirm internal damage.”

Ren finally pulled back as the stretcher was lowered. His men lifted her. Ren rose with them, caressed her cheek once, then let her go.

Jax nodded to the commander and followed the stretcher toward the transport.

He had a feeling.

If she didn’t survive—

Neither would he.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Kylo watched as they carried her toward the medical transport, her body limp, blood still staining her gown.

He didn’t understand what had come over him.

Why he held her like that.

Why he took off his mask.

Why he felt the need to comfort her.

He looked down at his gloved hand—still slick with her blood.

Then his gaze lifted.

To the princess.

She stood tall, chin raised, defiance burning in her eyes. Her hand still stained red.

He sneered marching towards her.

Each step deliberate. Controlled. The rage was there—burning beneath the surface—but he held it tight, like a blade waiting to be drawn.

Hux stepped into his path, just enough to be noticed.

“We need her alive for interrogation, Ren.”

Kylo didn’t answer. He looked past him.

The princess stood tall, blood on her hand, defiance in her eyes.

Smug.

“I hope your whore dies,” she spat, voice sharp, venomous.

The words hit harder than any blade.

His eyes narrowed.

The Force surged.

Her bloody hand—the one that had held the dagger—jerked forward, suspended midair. She gasped, but it was too late.

Before Hux or the troopers could react, Kylo’s saber ignited.

One clean slice.

He severed her hand.

She screamed.

Kylo stepped forward, grabbing her face with a gloved hand, harsh and unflinching.

“Insult her again,” he said, voice low and lethal, “and I’ll rip your tongue out and feed it to you.”

He released her.

Turned.

Snatched his mask from the ground with the Force.

And strode away to his personal ship.

Chapter Text

The Finalizer loomed ahead, its silhouette cold and unmistakable against the void.

Kylo’s TIE fighter landed with flawless precision. His mask was in place once more, but the storm of anger beneath it remained untempered. Betrayal from the prince and princess, a spy hidden among them, and the girl—wounded.

He moved through the corridors, ignoring the salutes of passing officers. His purpose was singular.

The medical wing.

He entered the main hall, his voice low and cutting.

“Where is the girl?”

The attendant stood so fast her datapad clattered to the floor. “Room 146B when treatment is complete, sir. Her bacta tank session will take six to twelve hours.”

‘Tank. How serious was the wound?’, Kylo hesitated briefly, weighing the question, his mask hiding any trace of feeling or intent.

“Where is her attendant?” He demanded.

“In the tank chamber, sir. Checking—”

He didn’t let her finish.

He was already moving.

He entered the wing. The tank chamber was dim and sterile, machinery humming quietly—a place built for severe trauma and rapid recovery. In the far corner, he spotted the attendant standing before one of the tanks.

He moved closer.

She was submerged in the blue fluid, breathing through a face apparatus. Her body was exposed except for standard medical undergarments. The wound was visible. It looked like it had been reopened with a longer cut and then sealed again. Bacta swirled around her like mist.

Kylo’s gaze caught another scar on her left thigh—a vertical slash. Then his eyes found the older scar beneath the new wound.

He circled the tank, studying her.

A jagged scar, old and brutal, cutting across her entire side. Like something had torn her open once and left her to survive it.

His thoughts drifted back to the initial medical reports he’d ordered. They’d noted old lacerations, but at the time, he’d been more concerned with her origins than her scars.

Then Hux’s notes surfaced in his memory. She’d lost her family in an accident. The scars must have been part of it.

“How severe was the wound?” he asked, voice low.

The attendant didn’t hesitate. “Not as bad as we feared, sir. We had to open her up to navigate the scar tissue. Mild penetrative trauma. No muscle or organ damage. No nicked arteries. The bacta will heal her well. A new scar may form on her lower abdomen, but compared to the ones she already has, it’ll be barely noticeable.”

Kylo stared at her through the glass.

“I want updates. Every hour.”

“Yes, sir.” The medical attendee replied.

He didn’t move.

He just stood there.

Watching her float.

He still could not wrap his mind around her.

The brutal scars. The loss of her family. Being pulled through the fabric of space and time. Brutalized by others, even by him.

Yet she still laughed. Still smiled.

Even bleeding out in his arms she joked about how her trip to Rohis was a disaster.

Told him his moles were cute.

‘Your moles are cute.’ She had said in a haze induced by pain or sedatives or both.

Every time he was near her, he felt unsteady—knocked off his axis. Her presence was destabilizing, and he hated it. Hated how she could shake his control without even trying. Hated how she made him feel humor, made him laugh.

Yet, despite himself, he was drawn to her—irresistibly, like a moth to flame.

He marveled at how someone so deeply wounded could still find the will to move forward— how she managed to live without being torn asunder by bitterness or anger.

"Commander Ren. General Hux is requesting your presence on the sub deck in the war room," The station assistant relayed.

Kylo glanced at the girl suspended in the bacta tank one last time before turning and heading to the briefing.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Your ears ring like sirens. Pain blooms hot in your leg, sharp and spreading. Your head pulses. Your heart slams against your ribs.

“Mom… Dad… Joey…” you call out, voice cracked, desperate.

No answer. You are met with silence.

Outside the crumpled car, you hear voices—men shouting orders.

“How many casualties so far?”

“Six, sir.”

You turn your head toward the driver’s side.

And freeze.

Metal rebar has punched through the windshield—brutal, unforgiving. Multiple rods spear through your father’s chest, pinning him to the seat like a broken statue.

Your eyes trace the metal.

They’ve punched through the driver's seat and into the back seat, driven into your little brother’s skull and neck.

Your stomach lurches at the ghastly site.

You can’t breathe. A scream claws its way out of you, primal and endless.

The voices outside the car swell—urgent, commanding.

Metal groans. Something claws at the wreckage, peeling it open like a tin can.

Hands reach in grabbing you and pulling.

Pain erupts across your side—like something tearing through you.

Then—

Your eyes snap open.

Blue fluid surrounds you.

Something’s strapped to your face—a mask, a tube.

You pull at it. You kick and trash. Panic overtaking you.

A red light flashes as you bang on the glass. You see people move outside the tube you were trapped in.

You punch. Kick. Rip the mask off.

Bitter liquid floods your mouth. You choke, gagging as panic claws through your chest.

The hatch opens and the liquid drains rapidly. You’re left at the bottom of the tank, trembling, and gasping.

A man approaches. You flinch curling into yourself.

“I’m Dr. Apra,” he says gently. “Head medic on the Finalizer. You’re safe. You were in a recovery tank. Just breathe.”

His voice is calm, but your heart is a drumline of terror.

You cough, eyes wide, heart racing.

Then a pinch in your thigh.

You look down.

He’s injected you with something.

Your world begins to blur at the edges. Your limbs go slack. Numbness spreads like frost.

More medical personnel enter. You’re lifted onto a gurney. Rolled through corridors that hum with sterile light.

You’re lifted—weightless, drifting—then placed onto a cold surface that bites through your skin.

Warm water pours over you, head to toe. It washes away the wreckage, the blood, the memory. You lie still, half-submerged in silence.

Time stretches. You lose track of it.

Then—fabric brushes your skin. Clothes run down your limbs, drying you in slow, methodical strokes.

Hands peel away your undergarments. You try to move, to shield yourself, but your body won’t respond.

Before you can reach for modesty, a medical gown slips over your exposed skin—thin, sterile, impersonal.

Another gurney. Another transfer.

You watch, sedated and hollow, as they wheel you into a room that smells like bleach and silence.

Machines blink. Vitals are checked.

Then they leave.

You lie there alone.

Your eyes are heavy.

But you fight sleep.

Because you know what waits behind your eyelids.

The wreckage. The rods. Joey.

And the scream that never stopped.

xxxxXXXXxxxx

Kylo Ren funneled into the war room like a storm barely contained. Officers parted instinctively, heads bowed, eyes averted. His mask was back on, but the fury beneath it was palpable—radiating off him in waves, thick enough to choke the air.

General Hux didn’t flinch. He continued his briefing with clipped precision, as if the storm hadn’t entered.

“The planet Rohis is now under First Order occupation,” he announced crisply. “With the royal family all dead, except for the princess. The palace has been secured; our forces are consolidating control. They are weeding out any resistance cells that remain scattered among the populace.

Kylo stood at the edge of the room, silent, unmoving.

Hux continued. “The prince and princess were complicit in the Resistance’s infiltration. The prince has been dealt with. The princess—detained for further questioning.”

“Are these reports accurate?” Vice Admiral Shaw asked, voice taut. “The princess was disfigured? Her hand—cut off?”

“Her wounds have been stabilized and she will be questioned further on her role”, Hux responded not wanting to elaborate on why Kylo Ren lopped off her hand.

No one dared glance at Ren.

“The Resistance’s attack was coordinated with internal sabotage. We have confirmed the presence of a spy aboard the Finalizer.” Hux continued.

Kylo’s head tilted slightly.

Hux’s voice sharpened. “The spy remains at large. Their sabotage resulted in twenty-seven casualties, including two officers and a communications relay team.”

A murmur rippled through the room.

“The investigation is ongoing,” Hux said. “All personnel are being re-screened. Until the spy is found, security protocols will remain elevated.”

Admiral Vox leaned forward, voice cutting through the tension. “From the reports, the prince and princess targeted a member of the Order. A female custodial technician. Why is that? Is she involved?”

Kylo watched Hux stiffen.

Only Hux, himself, the Supreme Leader and a few scientists knew of the girls’ true origins.

“The girl is irrelevant,” Hux retorted hoping to dead the issue.

“Clearly not that irrelevant if she was targeted by the traitors. If she’s not a spy, then why try to silence her?” Vox pushed.

Kylo saw Hux’s jaw flex.

“The prince and princess were informed—by the spy—of a rumor,” Hux said. “That the girl was involved with Commander Ren.”

Kylo felt Vox and the rest of the brass turn and look at him.

“With all due respect, Commander Ren,” Vox asked, cautious, “is she involved with you?”

Kylo turned his masked face toward him.

He felt the room hold its breath.

He relished it—how Vox and the others stiffened under his gaze. Their cowardice was embarrassing. Paper ranks and polished boots.

The girl had more spine staring him down—bloodied, defiant—than any of these so-called commanding officers.

“No,” Kylo said.

The word dropped like a blade.

He could feel it—the skepticism, thick and silent, crawling beneath their uniforms.

Yet no one dared challenge him.