Ordered

Chapter 13 - In Which Rey Is Left To Care For Kylo Ren

(Chapter Rating: T? Rey recalls their wedding night)

As far as Luke was concerned, there stood a season and time to every purpose. Rey had never claimed to fully understand his philosophical ravings. She practiced the Force to the best of her ability, although somewhat unconventional, and relied on it for guidance.

The purpose today involved Kylo Ren's life.

Luke was adamant that he could help them. His power could be the tipping point against the enemy. Away from Snoke's influence, he would slowly cease to be Kylo Ren and rise as Ben Solo once more. She chose to believe him, although it went against her instincts. Luke had more experience in these matters.

When she watched Luke's X-wing leave the atmosphere, the orange sun sinking like her resolve, the Force called to her again. It only came to her in bursts during her panic. Her nerves were racked now. The truth, the assurance that she needed to tend to the broken creature inside, filled her with a new energy. If the Force willed his power to stay among the living, she had to try.

She battled her own reluctance. A fear of death and the suffering right in front of her. Of any prolonged pain. The care Kylo Ren needed wasn't easy. This was much worse than the bad days when Luke coughed blood. Inside, burnt flesh, blisters, infection, fever, spoiled clothing, poor circulation, and risk of bedsores, all waited for her. He needed a bacata tank. The galaxy's best medical droids would have him fixed in an instant. And, yet, moving him to save his life could cost them their own. Blowing the cover of the sacred hideaway.

Dutifully, she refreshed the wet cloth on his forehead, rubbing away the beads of sweat. Summer on this primitive island felt miserable. Not comparable to Jakku, but confided to this room of lingering death, it seemed hellish. Lifting her hand, she offered a cool piece of ice to his cracked lips. He turned away, more restless than usual tonight.

"Rey," he pleaded, desperation heavy in his broken voice. He had never called to her before. The familiarity he used made him all the more helpless. But she wanted to take it as a positive sign. Vocal recognition was a good indication of his recovery. He knew she tolled over him. Perhaps he recalled what happened.

"Yes," she lightly placed her hand on his shoulder, "I'm here." She watched him lick his wet lips and swallow. There seemed to be something more he wanted to say. Fraught to improve his comfort, she offered, "What can I do? Water? Ice?"

When he didn't answer, she touched him again, hand pressing firmer. "Ben?"

The name didn't sound right on her tongue. It felt peculiar. If he were well, he would want to be called Kylo Ren. She could imagine him, in all of his strength, argue for absolute correctness. However, Luke had yet to utter that strange alias. And, he knew best.

Days prior to the astonishing wedding contract, she hadn't called this man anything at all, save monster. Yet, after her second capture, diving into his mind each day challenged her better judgment. Each time he met her with increasing wonder and mirth. It made him seem pleasant and soft. Someone capable of boyish curiosity and awe for the mysteries around him. And somehow, she caught a glimpse of a different person entirely. A person that might have been pure and honorable once.

Finding herself accidently amongst his innermost thoughts, she knew he likened her power to looking into a mirror. That he saw himself in her caused the fiend some excitement. If only he'd known the truth. Still, it made him generous and kind to her, assuming she was some type of extension he craved. Madness she fought hard against. Given another week, he might have used his delusions to coax true, positive feelings within her.

She had nearly escaped in time. Not quite. He had returned before she could steal the codes for the door! Even in his weakened state, she floundered in embarrassment. She had allowed him to ravish her. Was it possible to be attracted to a man and balk at him? Yet, ironically, she couldn't turn away from him now.

She tried again, muttering his name softly.

This time, his face winced in pain. He shook from side to side and uttered a deep, prolonged cry. "They'll kill each other!"

Rey jerked her hand back. Not knowing what to do, panic tightened her chest. There was little she could do for a night terror. The fever wasn't getting better either.

"Ben," she called again, "You're safe. No one is killing anyone." Not yet anyways, she argued in her mind. For the moment it was true. Much of the future depended on Luke's success. If he returned the victor or far worse. But, she wouldn't worry about that today. Without Luke, it would be suicide for the both of them.

"Son," he suddenly coughed with a tone of sadness, "I order you to protect your mother." She reeled. This was getting too bizarre. Surely he spoke of himself? Did he mean to make things right with Leia? He certainly owed her that much. Rey secretly wished she could make things right with her mother. But she didn't have the ability to reach out to Force ghosts.

Rey shook him. "Everyone's fine." It felt like a lie. His father was dead, by his own hand. When the scene replayed in her mind, numbness burdened her heart. She would always hate him for the monstrous act. In their limited time, none could find a better friend than Han Solo. Except for Luke and Raeh, he'd been her father figure. Of the three, they'd shared the most in common.

Rey sometimes thought it cruel that the light side of the Force did not play by the law of retaliation. By logic only, it seemed that a life should pay for a life. That by killing Han, Kylo Ren should die in return. Learning of Han's death, Luke had mourned, but recoiled from her plan for revenge.

"Revenge is of the Sith," he warned her, "There is no revenge of the Jedi."

In his wisdom, Luke envisioned life instead of death. He prayed that Han's last wish, the return of his son, would be fulfilled. Moreover, Luke foresaw Ben's vital aid on their mission. Although ruthless, Ben was a studious warrior, the last former padawan that lived, and the only heir to the Skywalker mantle. His death would accomplish nothing for the galaxy. Truthfully, acceptance of Luke's aim had taken Rey a considerable amount of time. Even now, it didn't seem right, that this man was not her enemy.

When Luke sent her to spy on the cloning facility, she never dreamed she'd be caught and delivered straight into Kylo Ren's waiting hands again. Escaping as his blood-on-contract wife and lover. Leading Ben back to his uncle in the most depraved, twisted way imaginable. Luke had been quick to look on the bright side. Salvage was gain no matter how it came about. Easy for her creator to say. He'd not been forced into a wedding, giving the best food and drink in the galaxy, tried to perform an-escape-inducing-sex-act, only to be seduced, and left to play nursemaid in lieu of the cloning problem that still existed. Now she was alone with the very man and the conflicting emotions that raged over her.

He screamed and thrashed on the bed, shouting about the dark. She pressed closer to stop him from hurting himself. Grabbing his arms did no good. He halted, but crushed her to his bandaged chest in a fretful embrace. She didn't move, fearful of his uncontrollable dream and the alarming heat of his body. His protective arms where too heavy against her for comfort. Too intimate. Surely, it wasn't healthy, his heart racing this fast. Had it been this fast during their night together? The knee she had pressed against the bed wobbled as her skin flushed at the very thought.

"Rey," he grasped her tightly, too tight. As though he needed her and would die without her near. His touch was broken and sorrowful. She didn't like the feeling that she knew this embrace. That it moved her. That he wasn't all dreadful. That he possessed a hidden tenderness, sensitive in nature. Revealing it to her time after time.

He mumbled soft nothings. The words marveled her heart for a second. The man certainly held the ability to be poetic, even in his sick, feverish dreams. But why did it matter? Her instinct wanted to move away, but she fought against it, and let him hold her. After an eternity, he fell to a more peaceful state. She slid away from him and checked the bandages only to find a fresh stream of blood.

"Oh, you're bleeding again."

Would he ever truly heal?