Confronting Fear

Worship

"I'd do anything to have her to myself
Just to have her for myself
Now I don't know what to do
I don't know what to do when she makes me sad.
She is everything to me
The unrequited dream
A song that no one sings
The unattainable"

Slipknot - Vermillion pt 2

Kylo was slightly amused at her reaction, his eyes searching her face as her expression rapidly changed. Shock. Disbelief. Understanding. He'd never been this close to her in person, not even in the lift. It was intoxicating, his gaze drawn to her perfect lips. He felt himself leaning forward to take them as his own, before coming to his senses just in time. He straightened, gripping his helmet so tightly he could feel his knuckles go white, all he wanted to do was feel her bare skin, briefly imagining what she looked like with out all those pesky clothes. "You're the one person I trust not to kill me for them. You should get some rest."

He moved towards the door when he heard her call out to him. He froze in place, not daring to look at her.

"Why are you doing all of this? What am I to you?"

She needed to ask? How did she not already know? How could he explain it to her? The days he spent thinking about her, her strength and power and how she drew everyone to her without even trying; the nights he lay awake wishing she was in his arms, imagining how she felt, wondering what her lips tasted like. He wanted to gift her the entire galaxy just he could stand beside her every day. She saw his Darkness and didn't fear it the way every other person he had ever known had. She was a smoldering fire chasing away the coldness in his heart and he wanted to burn in her forever.

If she didn't already understand, there was no way he could make her so he said the only thing that came to mind, "You're going to help me destroy Palpatine." It was a lie and she instantly called him on it.

"No, that's not what I meant and you know it. This started in the hut while I was training with Luke. Then you asked me to join you in Snoke's throne room. That was a year ago, before Palpatine. What am I to you?"

He moved to open the door, trying to come up with a response that would sate her. He knew she'd keep at it until he said something. "My future," as quickly stepped outside before she could ask again.

His rooms were only a few feet down the hall but he practically ran, the door taking forever to open. Once inside, he sank to his knees, cape pooling around him, shuddering as he drew in each wracking breath.

The events of the past few days with no sleep had finally caught up to him. Mustafar, Exegol, Pasana, Kajimi, Rey. Fuck. He hadn't realized having her close would affect him so strongly. He'd had to have her since he first saw her on Takodana, and he always got what he wanted. She'd led him on a wild porg chase across the galaxy, but he'd finally caught her. He had known the reunion would be intense, but this was beyond his imagining.

He could still sense her, see her shoulders sloping upward to the pulse in her neck, feel the warmth emanating from her soft skin. He craved it, suddenly struck by the urge to go back to her room, pull her close and feel every inch of her against him.

What a difference a year had made. His dirty scavenger in brown had become an angel in white. She had certainly looked the part in the hangar, her sheer scarves flowing around her in the wind had made her appear ethereal, divine. As they strode towards each other after he practically crash landed his TIE, he hadn't been completely sure she was real. The changes had not been limited to wardrobe.

She didn't know, but he had watched her slow transformation from desert scavenger to powerful Jedi from afar. He had discovered by accident that the Force connection hadn't been severed after Crait. A few weeks after the battle, he had been thinking about her for the thousandth time, when he felt the familiar shift. She had been asleep, her face peaceful. He spent the night memorizing the pattern of her freckles.

He tried again a few weeks later. That night he had noticed Anakin's repaired saber on the nightstand, as though she was afraid to be parted from it. He had realized then that he was starting to be able to see her surroundings. She stirred in her sleep, waking just as he vanished.

He had been afraid after the close call, knowing she would not be pleased. It was a few months before he dared try again. Despite the late hour, he found Rey in a meadow training with the saber, illuminated in the moonlight. Lucky for Kylo, there had been plenty of cover to hide behind. He had burned her silhouette against the moon into his eyelids.

The last time had been a month ago. She had once again been sleeping. Her hair spread across the pillow much longer than before. Her arms outside the blanket had filled in with muscle. He noticed that again when he saw her on Pasana, the combination of a steady supply of food and a training regimen had filled in her previously rail thin figure.

But nothing had compared to seeing her in person. As vivid as the Force connections were, there was something missing. Her power and control of the Force had developed exponentially as had her confidence. She was a goddess, his alone to worship. Not the pilot's or the traitor's, his.

His thoughts darkened at the memory of their goodbyes to Rey. Especially the pilot's embrace, looking far too intimate. How dare he touch what was rightfully his! He shook his head as if to clear it. It didn't matter anymore. He was gone. He'd never touch her again. And if he did, well, Kylo would deal with it then.

His breathing had normalized enough he trusted himself to stand. He needed a shower and sleep. He needed to plan. Deposing the Emperor would take careful coordination and he hadn't considered what to do beyond getting Rey's assistance, knowing only that he needed it to succeed.

He knew vaguely how Vader and Luke had done it before... Vader! At the thought he tore through the seating area into his office. His heart dropped at the sight of the ruined pedestal he so reverently displayed his grandfather's mask on. His mind flooded with relief to see it unbroken on top of the rubble, it's twisted face staring up at him accusingly.

He carefully placed the mask in the velvet lined box that he used to transport it when he moved from ship to ship. It would do until he could have the altar replaced.

He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the duraglass panel, and realized for the first time the state he was in. His clothes and armor caked with sand and sweat, his boots muddy. His face was paler than usual, the lack of sleep evidenced by the dark circles under his eyes. The scar, Rey's mark upon him, angry against his pale skin.

The scar. He thought back to the night she had given it to him in the forest of Starkiller base. To add insult to injury, she'd done it with his family saber. But, he had never resented her for the scar, on the contrary it served as motivation to reclaim her, a reminder of her power. Besides, what was a scar to a warrior? He wore it like a badge of honor.

He sighed as he entered the shower, the hot water removing two days worth of grime when the fatigue really set in. He subtly cast his thoughts out into the Force, feeling for signs of his Jedi, -just to make sure she was still safe- he lied to himself. He felt her presence, a yellow so pale it was almost white beacon. He noted with satisfaction the dark tinge at the very edges, so faint he almost missed it. His mark upon her.