Reylo: These Violent Delights

Chapter 46: Rock Bottom.

Besides the ringing in Kylo's ears, the return trek to the Night Buzzard was quiet.

The TIE fighters had left after he alerted the Stormtroopers to pull their division out, leaving Tepasi serene once again. The only sound that lingered around him and his six knights were their footsteps, and the occasional tune that Ushar would whistle to himself. Kylo used the rare moment of silence to center himself. He needed to be in control for tonight, because the level of meditation he needed to locate his Force signature on that stupid diamond necklace was astronomical, and he decided that tonight was the night.

This time, he would break through and find Rey in her dreamscape. This time, failure wasn't an option.

Upon arriving at the shuttle, his knights dispersed to their respective quarters, while Kylo lumbered to the command room. Vicrul accompanied him. "We should regroup on Pryde's ship, Master. Some real food and rest will serve you well."

"No. Now that he's the sole General of the First Order army, he's just as insufferable as Hux," he said, sinking down into the co-pilot seat. The movement caused a shooting pain in his side, pulling a deep groan through his lips. "Fucking hell, that hurts like a bitch."

Vicrul took a heavy seat beside him, taking off his helmet. "Well, Hux is dead, sir. So at least you only have to deal with the lesser of the two cunts."

Kylo scoffed, but it only caused another stabbing pang from his midsection. Grimacing, he lifted his hands and removed his helmet. He let it fall to the ground with a solid bang and immediately felt Vicrul's eyes on him.

"You desperately need your wounds tended to, Master."

Kylo frowned. "I'm fine."

Vicrul didn't say anything, but Kylo could sense his disapproval. That's fine with me, he mused, settling in to happily spend the next thirty minutes in silence. Within that time, he focused on letting go of his anger. Partly because he knew he needed a clear mind for his search tonight, but also because Vicrul's energy had that effect on him—something that only happened when they were alone. Collectively, his knights fueled and matched his anger, validating his fury. But with Vicrul...the Supreme Leader remained neutral and calm, no matter the circumstance. He envied him for that.

Kylo looked directly at him. "Do you think Rey was losing her light in my shadow?"

Vicrul stayed facing the black depths of space, one hand resting atop the throttle. "It doesn't matter what I think, sir."

"I'm asking you what you think," he said, voice dripping with impatience. "So yes, it does matter."

Vicrul eyed him. "You don't want to hear my honest answer, Master."

"I'm asking you because you're the only person in this entire fucking galaxy that gives me honest answers." Kylo's eye twitched. "Tell me."

"Okay, then..." Vicrul shifted in his seat, so he was facing him. "Yes. I think part of Rey's light was diminished because of you."

His shoulders slumped down. "Fuck."

Vicrul sighed. "I warned that you wouldn't like it."

"But I took care of her."

"I know you did."

"You warned me. All of you did," Kylo muttered, directing his dejected gaze down to the floor. "I didn't listen."

"I know you didn't."

Momentary silence expanded between them, but in the depths of his mind, Kylo was thinking about everything that had happened, starting with day one. Capturing her. Carrying her back to his shuttle. Watching her sleep. His uncontrollable obsession. His determination to make her submit to him and the First Order. His cruel mistreatment. Sector 45B...

He shuddered. "In the beginning...I did horrible things to her. Things she should hate me for."

"She was a prisoner of war, Master Ren," Vicrul mused, tapping his fingers on the accelerator. "We had every reason to believe there was a Force-destabilizer buried in her psyche, sir, and make no mistake—she would have done the same to you, if not worse, had the roles been reversed. If the Resistance had captured you, she would have sliced your head clean off your shoulders the first chance she got."

Kylo thought about it, then shrugged. "She would do that now."

"You're not wrong."

A ghost of a smile pulled at the corner of his lip, but the grimness of his reality didn't allow it to materialize. He let out a rough exhale, bowing his knees out as he tried to get comfortable. "I just...I thought, maybe I had given her enough. That a home was what she needed." Kylo paused, a dull ache expanding in his chest at his admittance. "I thought I was what she needed."

"I think a part of Rey does need you."

"But not a big enough part to make her stay."

Vicrul softened his tone. "No, Master. Not enough to stay."

Quietness fell in the cockpit, and the dull ache in his chest swelled into a severe sadness, spreading throughout his body like a disease. No anger, no rage—just misery. His eyes glazed over as the shuttle drifted through space at a leisurely pace, the twinkling stars passing him by with bright, taunting optimism. The seconds ticked by like hours, and it wasn't until he felt Vicrul's eyes on him that his pity party was interrupted.

"What is it, Vicrul."

"If I may be so bold, Master Ren..."

Kylo released a rough exhale. "Spit it out."