To Tend Our Wounds: PART II OF 'TO CURSE THE DARKNESS' (Kylo/OC)

Beginnings

Kylo Ren took in his naked physique as it was reflected back to him in the mirror of his refresher, lamenting the wounds that had left him maimed. He'd been a handsome young man; he was not unaware of this fact. He'd inherited both the nobility of his mother and the swarthiness of his father, which combined, gave him a dark, entrancing appearance. Now his attractiveness was ruined, he thought with resentment as his eyes traced the scars that traveled from his forehead, down his face, across his chest and down to his pelvis; even his shoulder had been scorched in a bizarre roundel. They were all reminders of the lacerations and burns he'd suffered to skin and muscle during his altercation with those Resistance rats.

The wounds continued to plague him despite the expert treatment he'd received at the hands of the medics and droids. Once the nanosutures had been dissolved, he'd been left with unspeakable scars. Although the disfiguring wounds appeared to be healed, they still left marred flesh in their wake as well as a burning ache that would not abate.

To add to his misery, he'd been without the narcotics that had helped dull the pain of his injuries ever since he'd been informed that his personal medic Lieutenant Sharva had been "reassigned," whatever that truly meant. It was probably Snoke taking Niela away because he felt she'd been coddling Kylo, and Snoke wanted to see him get back to work immediately. To compensate, Kylo had turned to what he could get his hands on without Snoke or the medical crew knowing – spice.

It was Carsunum spice, a very rare and very illegal strain but also a very refined, potent and high-quality one. It was found only on the planet Sevarcos, but he'd made a connection with a mechanic in the hangar where his shuttle was docked, an old veteran of the Imperial days who couldn't see very well, didn't ask any questions and didn't say much in return – just what Ren needed.

The dark crimson-brown powder called to him now, lulling him into its spell as he opened the bantha-leather case on the counter, the accoutrements of his self-treatment lying within. Just looking at it brought him a sense of relief, and he carefully opened the cap of one of the vials to dispense a tiny amount into a hypospray where he diluted it with a touch of water. He injected himself on the side of his neck where he could hide the miniscule punctures under his collar lest anyone should see.

It instantly fed his brain with the drug that had been helping him cope with the torment of both body and soul these last few months. The rush was instantaneous and delivered him not only its signature heightening of physical aptitude and mental acuity, but also a sense of well-being and contentment, if such a thing were possible for Kylo Ren, and he sighed in satisfaction.

Every time he used it, the spice soothed him. When the voice of the father he'd murdered disturbed his sleeping as well as waking thoughts; when he felt the fear and panic of arousing in the middle of the night, believing his Uncle Luke's lightsaber was just above his face; when the pain of his body was as bad as the pain of his heart; when he experienced the torment of feeling his soul being ripped apart from the inside out - the spice made it all go away.

The only drawback for Ren was that he failed to notice that the longer he used it, the more briefly the high lingered. He was afraid to take more than the trace amounts to which he'd been restricting himself for fear of becoming addicted, but the level of denial Ren had been engaging in helped hide from himself the fact that he already was.

He ignored the days when he'd been away from his kit too long and his hands started to shake; he explained away the moments when his body was crying out for the pacifying effects of the drug and the discomfort drove him to rage; and most of all, he was in complete denial that the spice was interfering with his connection to the Force and his ability to wield it, a fact that had not gone unnoticed by Snoke of late, although his lack of self-awareness was helping hide the severity of the problem from the Supreme Leader. Nevertheless, Ren was addicted to spice as surely as a Hutt was addicted to crime. For now, though, he breathed deeply and let the euphoria wash over him as he prepared to face his duties for the day.