Ouroboros

Two

TWO:

Consciousness returned swiftly, as was usual. Somehow in his life, he seemed to have had more than his fair share of unpleasant awakenings, frequently after nightmares but also from crashes, explosions, Snoke's punishments and of course, that night when he found Luke standing over him, a Lightsaber fizzing in his hand and a look of disgust on his face...

Sensations returned and immediately, he realised he was alone. Rey was gone, her body no longer clutched in his grasp and a faint sensation of panic fluttered in his chest. Firmly, he tamped it down: Rey was dead, her spirit melded with the Force as was her just reward for her heroism in ending the threat of Palpatine, once and for all. And maybe, that would mean he could reach for her, call for her...see her. Force Ghosts were not something the Sith considered though the Jedi revered their predecessors and visitations from an old Master were not infrequent when a Jedi needed guidance and a gentle pointer. Or so Luke had said. But did he qualify? Was he entitled to reach for her when his redemption had been incomplete and his crimes so heinous?

He moved slightly and realised that he was lying supine on a hard metal bed that was barely long enough for his tall frame. He could feel the familiar sensation of Bacta patches on his wounds and there was a gentle throbbing on his leg where there had been pain. Someone had treated his wounds-but as he tried to sit up, he realised there were binders around his wrists, the metal digging into his flesh and attaching him to the bed. Instinctively, he pulled against the restraints and reached for the Force to pry the simple restraints apart-and then he found...nothing.

His eyes snapped wide open and he took a couple of very fast, very anxious breaths. The Bond was a void of blackness, nothing where Rey should be-but now his connection to the Force was attenuated almost to the point of nullity. Was this his punishment, the price he paid for betraying the Sith and turning away from Darth Sidious or was it a side-effect of his injuries. Was this why he had failed Rey?

But then he lifted his head and he grimaced, his vision swimming and head spinning lightly. Nausea was roiling in his stomach and his limbs felt appreciably heavier than usual as he strained to move: he had been drugged. The twin emotions of relief and concern warred. Relief that he hadn't lost his power mixed with concern that someone had gone to the trouble to drug him enough to suppress his powers instead of killing him outright. That equation did not add up to a promising scenario. But who was his jailer and what could he expect from his hosts?

Except a swift and public death for his crimes, he thought grimly, resting his head back and closing his eyes. It had to be the Resistance, since the Final Order had been annihilated at the battle of Exegol, though that realisation filled him with no confidence at all. He had led the efforts to exterminate them and now they had won, would they be inclined to mercy for the highest ranked First Order Officer? Or would his death be proof of victory and satisfy the very humanoid need for revenge?

"I know you're awake." The door had opened while he was thinking and he lay still, hearing two bodies move to a few feet to his right and he forced his eyes open. He frowned slightly as his vision focussed and he recognised the deserter FN-2187, Finn as Rey had called him and Poe Dameron. The latter had his blaster aimed directly at Ben's head and he nodded.

"That's correct," he said neutrally. "I am awake." Poe's face twisted in anger.

"Y'know, I can't think of one good reason why I don't blow your head off, here and now," he growled.

"It would be a waste of the efforts your medics have put into patching me up," Ben replied evenly, his dark gaze fixed on the pilot's face.

"I could live with that," Poe said, his aim never wavering.