"Only in the darkness can you see stars."
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It has been six years since Ben Solo succumbed to his fate and betrayed the Jedi Order after being seduced by the Dark Side. With the aid of his immense power, the First Order has cast a shadow over the g...
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I'm sipping at a bowl of broth in my infirmary bed when a droid appears at my door.
"Your presence is requested by Lord Ren." It informs without being prompted. I choke on my broth, my eyes watering. I only woke up from my bacta treatments a few hours ago, and this is something I'm not sure I'm prepared for- but, shamefully, I'm desperate to see him.
I slip out of the sheets and put both feet on the floor, my knees a little wobbly from rest. I'm briefly grateful that they hadn't forced me into some kind of infirmary clothes while I was delirious, and let me keep my black clothing from the Finalizer. I can't put my finger on why, but I would be mortified if I went to see him for the first time while wearing a thin medical gown.
I follow the droid from the room, through twists and turns and corridors, deeper and deeper into the infirmary.
I feel our connection pulling stronger as we near him. I know we're close when I can sense his energy, which I notice is softer, less infuriating. The darkness is fainter, but I can still pick up on the anger, dread and... guilt?
The droid stops in front of a door, and suddenly I find it almost impossible to breathe. I want to reign everything in, every single thing I've felt since I saw him lying broken in the snow. I have to build the walls around my mind so there's no way he could see my thoughts, especially now. I have to restrain myself.
I sigh, raising my fist to knock on the door politely. Before I'm even finished knocking the door hisses open. I glance at the droid, willing it to accompany me, but it's already turning away. Alone, I step inside.
I don't know if I expected him to look vulnerable, but he looks quite the opposite. He hasn't turned to look at me, but he's sitting at the edge of his bed, facing the wall, and all I can see is his bare back, which is pale, shoulder blades prominent. I clear my throat.
"This is where we'll be staying now. At least, for a while." He starts, his voice impossibly lower. He sounds as if he hasn't spoken in months.
"Are you feeling better?" I ask quietly. I clasp and unclasp my hands together, biting my lip. He moves is head slightly, enough that I catch a glimpse of the unaffected left side of his face.
"That's irrelevant." He dodges the question, free of emotion. I flinch at his words.
Why would I expect anything differently? It is exactly as we had treated each other the last time we'd interacted, and it is enough confirmation that he hadn't heard a thing I had said to him when we were rescuing him from the base.
"What happened out there?" I press. There's something off about him that I can't quite pinpoint- it's eating him up inside.
He shakes his head, remaining characteristically silent. I resist the urge to punch the wall beside me. No one in all the whole galaxy can make me feel as exasperated as he does.
"I know someone ripped your face open, I saw it. You have to be in excruciating pain. And you're acting strangely, Ben, even for you-"
"Don't CALL ME THAT." He cuts me off, slamming his fist on the bed. He stands and faces me, breathing heavily, teeth clenched.
When I catch sight of his face, I gasp.
They haven't put bandages over it yet, so the stitched gash is a harsh streak of red, a crack in his otherwise smooth porcelain, freckled face. It isn't fully healed, still gleaming but not fresh, and it's bound shut with rough black stitches. The skin around it is swollen, bruised in hues ranging from black to violet to red and yellow. I step forward and raise my hand to touch it, and to my dismay he flinches, quickly stepping back.
"I-I've done something." He whispers, unable to meet my eyes. His bottom lip trembles and he swallows.
"Tell me." I soften my voice, gaze never leaving the side of his face as he looks away from me. I test to see if his mind is closed off. I get a glimpse of a cherry red lightsaber igniting through someone's abdomen, but I don't catch a face before he pushes me out.
"Please, stop." He growls. He furrows his eyebrows, studying the sheets on his infirmary bed as if they're giving him some answer he's searching for. He shakes his head again. "You're going to hate me." He mutters.
"It doesn't seem like that's something you were concerned with before." I retort, trying to lighten the mood. The feeling of dread he's emanating only swells, and I hear his heartbeat pick up from the back of my mind.
He looks up quickly, a storm erupting in his beautiful eyes as they meet mine.
"I killed him." His voice cracks. He studies me as I decipher his words, and though I'm not sure who he's referring to, I feel as if I've been slapped.
"Who?" I ask. Dread has already settled at the base of my stomach. He clears his throat, fist clenching and unclenching. He shakes his ahead at himself again. "Who, Kylo?" I whisper.
"I killed... Han Solo." His lips stay parted as he watches me.
I cease breathing.
I almost can't believe it. His own father, who I knew he had always loved deep down, behind all of the resentment he had saved for him. I picture him, a man who I had trusted and looked up to from the moment I met him as a girl.
"No... You're lying. He was your father!" I lash out, stricken with grief. I had hoped I wouldn't feel this familiar feeling again for a long, long time, if ever again. Tears slip over my cheeks, and when I look at Kylo's bare hands I swear I see the blood there still, stained and permanent.
"It had to be done." He says, devoid of feeling.
I want to scream and scream until he finally understands, but I'm not so sure he will anymore.
Maybe I was wrong.
Unable to bear it any longer, I slip from the room. Soon after, the sound of crashing and loud cursing can be heard, echoing down the hallway.
