THIS IS THE END.

HOLD YOU BREATH AND COOOOOOUNT TO TEN :p

Okay, sorry, couldn't resist. But yes, this is the final chapter for Psychedelic Inebriation. I hope you guys enjoy!

I want to thank everyone who's read and commented and left kudos on this fic, and who's stuck with me throughout the entire thing (not that it's that long, lol), and who will likely read the upcoming sequel and the deleted scenes too :D You guys are amazing!

I love all of you!

And the most love goes to my amazing beta Meaghan, who has dragged my through this story-who is the reason I wrote the entire thing in the first place-and who took over writing the especially difficult parts that I simply couldn't put into words. Meaghan, I love you, darling, thank you SO much!

Love, Annaelle

Part X

Starkiller Base

"Face your life, its pain, its pleasure, and leave no path untaken."
—Neil Gaiman

POE

Poe is not unaccustomed to the toe-curling, gut-churning kind of nerves that the moments before entering a battle bring about, nor is he unfamiliar with the prospect of losing loved ones. This time, it feels different though—more profound, and uniquely nerve-wracking.

He's never had more to lose before.

He may only have known Finn for a few weeks, but he already knows that he will never feel the way he does about Finn ever again, and he knows he'd likely not deal very well if he should lose Finn today. They had discussed it, in the past week; tentatively explored what maintaining a relationship would be like while living lives as dangerous and unpredictable as theirs.

Of course, the pending attack on Starkiller Base had weighed a lot on both their minds, and Poe had found it exceptionally difficult to enjoy the undiluted exaltation that came with a new relationship with that dangerous mission looming over their heads.

He cannot bear to think of losing Finn in this assault, but he does know there's a realistic chance.

Han Solo and Chewbacca had taken Finn onto the Millennium Falcon, with a very vague plan to take a lightspeed landing approach to get onto Starkiller—and Force, he hopes Finn's okay. He knows the stories about Han Solo's legendary piloting skills and many daring escapes, and he knows Finn is in good hands with the General… but despite all that knowledge, not being by Finn's side doesn't sit well with him.

He and Finn had not told anyone else that Finn would be using his time on Starkiller to look for Rey, too—Poe's almost entirely sure that General Solo would have scrapped the entire mission had he caught so much as a whiff of that idea.

It is the feeling of hope that Finn will be able to find Rey—alive and well—that kept Poe from refusing to take the mission. He had thought about it, in the three weeks following the Council's decision not to rescue Rey. He'd thought about resigning from the Resistance, about leaving the eternal fight between good and evil—Light and Dark—behind, and taking Finn to Yavin 4.

In the end though, he simply wants Rey back; wants her to be okay and unhurt and happy—he was worried for her before Kylo Ren abducted her, and he's been worried sick every single minute of the time she's been gone. At this point, he cares little for the circumstances or his orders from the Resistance—he just wants to know that Rey is okay and safe.

He's feeling more than a little disenchanted with the way the Resistance is treating everyone, and he's not sure it's worth fighting for anymore.

"Black Leader, go to sub-lights. On your call."

Poe exhales shakily as the command comes through, and briefly closes his eyes as he leans his head back against the headrest.

Finn did it—he disabled the shields and he's okay.

Poe's not stupid or naïve, and he knows they still have a long way to go before they'd all be safe—Poe still needs to bomb the oscillator and Finn still needs to find Rey in the vast maze that is Starkiller Base—but he feels a little more hopeful already.

He begrudgingly shakes all thoughts of Finn and Rey when the order comes in and focuses on getting onto that planet and blowing it up. Because, if nothing else, Poe has always been immensely proud of the way he is able to focus on his work.

"Roger, base," he replies. "Red squad, blue squad, take my lead." The distinct affirmative murmurs of the other pilots makes him feel a little better, though he still feels the weight of being responsible for their lives, as well, on his shoulders.

The drop from hyperspace to regular speed is jarring and disorienting for a split-second, like it usually is, but Poe manages to shake the feeling rather quickly and immediately locks in on their target—the black hexagonal oscillator is unmistakable against the bright white of the snow, and he swallows thickly as he waits for the telling beep that'll let him know he can start firing.

"Almost in range!" He exclaims. "Hit the target dead center, guys; as many runs as we can get!"

"Approaching target," Snap adds, and Poe can hear the tension in his fellow pilot's voice—he can't blame the man, either; he's well aware of the stakes of this mission.

He'd barely been able to follow the complicated explanation from one the engineers that had spent hours studying the wireframe from Starkiller Base, but he did gather that if there wasn't enough residual energy left, the oscillator would blow, and they'd still have damaged Starkiller, but it wouldn't implode—the First Order would be able to fix the damage, and that would not be constructive to what the Resistance is trying to achieve with this airstrike at all.

"Let's light it up!" He exclaims, and his adrenaline spikes as he pushes the yoke down and spirals into a nose-dive. He waits until the very last moment to pull up, dropping three bombs in quick succession, hitting the oscillator dead center each time.

His heart pounds loudly in his ears, and he whoops in elation—because kriff, he really does love flying like this—as the other pilots confirm that their bombs hit the oscillator too.

"There's no damage," Ello Atsy informs them worriedly, and Poe's stomach drops—but he will not give up; two of the people that mean the most to him in the entire galaxy are on that kriffing Base, and he knows they'll not be able to get out if he doesn't manage to blow this stupid thing up.

"We've got to keep hitting it," he insists. "None of us thought this would be easy, guys! Let's do it! Another bombing run!" BB-8 demands his attention with a long, furious beep, and dread pools in Poe's stomach as he spots the dozens of TIE-fighters on their tail, all of them, undoubtedly, armed to the teeth and shooting to kill.

"Guys," he gulps, chewing on his lower lip, "We got a lot of company!"

.

.

.

REY

Rey's heart is pounding in her chest as she hurries through the halls, wincing every time she hears a bomb explode—the ground doesn't quite quake with the force of the explosions, but the blasts and the subsequent panic that seems to thrum in the air put her on edge in a way she can barely bear.

Her earlier encounter with Kylo had left her flushed and confused, and she had been about to go out to find him—after ensuring she was dressed in a way befitting of Kylo Ren's Apprentice, rather than a common harlot with her clothing ruffled and askew and messy hair that was falling out of its braid—when she'd heard the explosions.

The hallways are eerily deserted as she hurries through them, and if she weren't so focused on finding Kylo, she might be more worried about the fact that she has seen no Stormtroopers as of yet.

She's tried to reach out to him through the Force—tried to feel for that distinctive red hum that always resides in the back of her mind—but she can only sense that he's actively shutting her out, so she can still feel him, but cannot find him.

Her fingers are curled tightly around her blaster pistol, and though she's not entirely certain she could actually kill one of the Resistance fighters she'd known back on D'Qar, she's sure she can muster enough anger towards them to at least incapacitate them.

She mentally tells herself to remain vigilant and to pay attention when she hears a noise. She swoops around and points her blaster at—

"Finn?"

She can barely believe her eyes and lowers her blaster immediately, staring at him wide-eyed. "What are you doing here?" She exclaims, a little taken aback by the dazzling smile that spreads across his full lips when he realizes who she is.

"Rey!" He exclaims happily, lowering his own blaster and drawing her into a tight hug before she has the chance to protest or raise her pistol again. "I knew it! I knew he wouldn't have killed you! Poe's going to be so happy to see you!"

And she would have said something, would have pushed him away—but then he mentions Poe, and she is too stunned to respond. "You found Poe?" she questions shakily, momentarily completely struck out of left field. "Is he okay? Did he—the crash—I know he's alive, but—"

Finn reels back at that, confusion clearly written all over his features. "How? I didn't know until—" He shakes himself before he can finish the sentence and grabs her hand in his, and she doesn't even have time to flinch away before he starts dragging her down the hall. "That can wait until later; we've got to get out of here now."

"Wait, no," she exclaims, struggling against Finn's surprisingly strong hold on her wrist. "Finn, let me go." She manages to yank her wrist from his grasp and takes a step back, clenching her fingers around her blaster pistol as Finn turns to stare at her in confusion.

"Rey," he mutters, and she can see the moment he realizes she is not, in fact, a prisoner. She doesn't know if it's the fact that she's wearing the same kind of robes the other Knights wear, or the blaster pistol, or the fact that she isn't at all afraid to get caught wandering in the halls—which she's sure he's noticed—but she can see the moment he realizes she has shifted her allegiance.

"I'm not going with you," she whispers, blinking away the burning tears that well up in her eyes at the thought of never getting to see Poe or Finn again. "I can't go back there, Finn. I can't." Her voice is unsteady and she's on the verge of bursting into tears, because the look in Finn's eyes is confusion mixed with disgust, and she cannot bear the thought of the same emotion filling Poe's eyes.

"Do you have any idea of how afraid he was?" Finn spits, taking a step forward, crowding her towards the wall with his muscular form—and she can barely breathe, barely think—as he pokes his finger into her shoulder angrily. "Of how many nights he spent wide awake feeling guilty because he couldn't come to save you right away? It's been killing him, Rey!"

"I did this for him!" She cries, shoving Finn back as hard as she can without actually hurting him. "I did this so he could be safe—away from all of this!" She can feel tears slipping down her cheeks and she hates the weakness her attachment to Poe causes her, but she can't stop. "I made him untouchable—they can't hurt him anymore, Finn."

Finn looks stricken by her words and stumbles back until his back is pressed up against the opposite wall. He stares at her, and though she doesn't quite know what to make of his now softer expression, she remains vigilant and raises the blaster a little so the tip is pointing in Finn's direction.

Neither of them speaks, and Rey uses the moment of silence to regroup and regain control over herself. Kylo had taught her better than to let her emotions get the upper hand—she is stronger than her base impulses.

"You can still come with me…" Finn says quietly, his gaze steady and intense as he eyes her from his spot against the opposite wall. "Poe will take you anywhere you want to go—Rey, you don't have to stay with these people. I know what they're like—the First Order isn't your only option anymore—please come with me."

She looks at him for a long time, and she knows she could take him up on his offer. While she may realize that what she felt for Poe isn't love, she cares for him a great deal, and she knows the feeling is entirely mutual.

She also knows Finn is right.

She could escape Starkiller Base with him, and Poe would take her wherever she wanted to go—but she is already right where she wants to be. "I don't want to go, Finn," she whispers, shaking her head lightly. "They—they're good to me, Finn. He is good to me."

Finn stares at her, long and hard, and she bites her lip, fidgeting under his scrutiny.

"I suppose that's all that matters," Finn replies hesitantly, and she can see the doubt and disbelief in his eyes. "Just… Be careful, okay? And get out of here—this place is going to blow. Just… Get out. I'll tell Poe—I'll tell him you're safe."

With those words, Finn nods shakily and pushes off the wall, heading back in the direction he came.

"Finn?"

She isn't sure what she's going to say—but she knows this might be the only chance she'll ever get to find some kind of closure for that part of her life. "Tell Poe… Tell him thank you for everything and that…"

There are tears burning in her eyes again as she remembers snippets of the time she'd spent with Poe over the past year—of all the times he'd held her and provided her with a safe haven—and swallows thickly. "…Tell him that spending time with him was the only reason I stayed for as long as I did. He's the only reason I survived."

Finn's eyes look suspiciously watery too, but he doesn't say anything. Instead, he simply nods curtly before turning and disappearing around the corner.

The second he disappears, she slumps back against the durasteel wall, exhaling shakily. Seeing Finn and knowing that Poe is out there in his X-wing had taken a lot more out of her than she had expected when she first ran into Finn—especially combined with everything that had happened earlier that day.

She honestly doesn't know how to process everything that life had thrown at her in the span of seven hours, from the most passionate kiss she'd ever experienced—one of her only kisses, to be honest—to a Resistance attack, and learning that Poe had never given up on trying to save her.

Her head feels too full, and she can't—

She doesn't know what to do.

She leans her head back against the wall and closes her eyes in exasperation. She does know what to do—she knows her place in the galaxy, which was the very reason she turned down Finn's offer to come with him and Poe. Now if only she could find that kriffing laser brain so she can actually take her place by his side.

She doesn't hear the tell-tale synchronised stomp of Stormtrooper feet until they are already standing before her, with Captain Phasma leading them. The Captain's otherwise pristinely polished chrome armour is stained with grease stains and what looks like mud—at least she hopes that's mud—and Rey wonders what in the name of the Force happened to her.

"Lady Rey," Captain Phasma greets her with a polite nod.

"Captain," Rey acknowledges, pushing herself off the wall and straightening her back. Kylo had advised her to never show any kind of weakness in front of any of the Stormtroopers or commanding officers, and it is advice she intends to follow—she has never been particularly comfortable around Captain Phasma in the first place, and after Kylo's warning, she is even less so.

"Do you know where Master Ren is?" She asks nonetheless, because she really doesn't know where Kylo is, and this base is so large that simply wandering around until she finds him is not an option.

Phasma tilts her head to the side slightly, almost like a cat studying her prey, before she nods. "Of course. He has taken a squadron of Stormtroopers to the Oscillator to secure it from within. He sensed it was the Resistance's true target—soon they'll realize its shields are strong enough to withstand their bombs from the outside, and attempt to cause damage from the inside."

The words make Rey feel a little nauseous, and Finn's earlier warning echoes through her mind.

'Get out of here. This place is going to blow. Just… Get out.'

She thanks Phasma, infinitely grateful for the way Kylo had taught her to school her features into a cool mask of indifference, and hurries towards the oscillator, praying to whatever deity there is—if there are any—that she will be able to get to Kylo before something bad happens.

She has taken only a couple of steps when she's nearly knocked off her feet by a strong wave of emotion from Kylo's end of the Bond, and it's stronger than anything she's ever felt from him before.

He's angry and frustrated and confused, and that scares her.

She has never seen her Master as anything less than perfectly in control, and what he is sending to her now—subconsciously, she's certain—feels completely out of control.

It takes her another long three minutes to run the last few hundred meters to the entrance of the oscillator, and another wave of nausea hits her when she expands her mind through the Force and senses three more distinct Force signatures—and she may not have actually sensed their signatures before, but she recognizes Finn, Han, and Chewbacca immediately.

"Oh, Sithspit," she curses, running out onto a catwalk and taking in the sight of her Master facing his father for the first time in more than a decade. She can scarcely imagine how he must be feeling, even with a direct line tapped into his mind. There's so much going on in that head of his, she can't really distinguish a single emotion or thought.

Her heart is still pounding, adrenaline pumping through her veins, and she can feel the ghost of Kylo's emotional turmoil through their linked minds.

She's unsure of how she's supposed to help him, though.

She watches, stunned, as Kylo takes off his mask when Han bids him to do so—she's fairly certain Kylo hasn't removed his mask around anyone but her in years—and bites her lip as she waits to see how the scene before her would play out.

"Snoke is just using you for your power," Han pleads, stepping forward towards Kylo, and she doesn't have to see his face to feel the conflicted agony in his mind and heart. "When he gets what he wants from you, he'll crush you—you know it's true."

Rey is, after everything she has seen in the First Order, not particularly inclined to agree, but she can sense a kind of awareness within the agony coming from Kylo that makes her pause. She moves forward a few steps—unintentionally and completely unaware that she is actually moving—her hand reaching out towards her Master, to touch him, to comfort him.

And then Han spots her, standing a few steps behind his son—and Force, it's one thing to know, but another to actually see the familial likeness between the two—and completely blows his lid.

"What is she doing here?" Han spits, haphazardly pointing the tip of his blaster towards her.

Kylo doesn't look around, but Rey knows that he knows she is there. She closes the remaining distance between them, pausing a step behind him, fingers still clenched around the grip of her pistol—she would step up to his side, but the catwalk is too narrow. Rey isn't sure why Han is looking at her as though she is Darth Bane incarnated, but she has a feeling that much has changed in the month she has been away from the Resistance—and not all of the changes seem to have been good for the great General Solo.

"I saved her from your Resistance," Kylo responds coldly, drawing his lightsaber from his belt. "She is now my Apprentice." Rey can hear the condescension and smug pride in his voice when he adds, "I'm certain it will be devastating for mother to realize she had the means to resurrect the Jedi Order in her grasp for an entire year—before you drove her into the First Order's welcoming arms as well."

"She's nothing more than a little slut," Han spits, and though Rey never truly cared about Han, there had once been a time, before she left Jakku, that she idolized him, and the words cut her deeper than she'd like to admit—if she is a slut, it is only because he made her one.

The choice between being a slut and being starved to death really hadn't been a difficult one, but it still raises her hackles to have it thrown back in her face as though it had been nothing.

Kylo stiffens, and Rey jumps a little when he ignites his crackling red saber. "Don't talk about her like that." Whereas his feelings had been a jumbled mess earlier, she can only sense pure and undiluted rage from his mind now, and it terrifies her.

She has felt many things from him already—more than he realizes, she's sure—but never rage quite like this, and it scares her.

"Why?" Han sneers, an ugly, angry expression twisting his features. "Afraid to hear the truth, son? I bet she didn't even last a day here before spreading her legs for the first high ranking officer that approached her."

Rey gasps in response, struck by the venom that falls from Han's lips—even in the worst of circumstances, she had never once seen him raise his voice or yell at anyone. She's never seen him like this before, and she can tell it's throwing Kylo off, too. Han's shouting now, spouting profanities and lies that she knows aren't true—that don't even make sense—and he looks positively unhinged.

"Shut up!" Kylo bellows suddenly, and Rey gasps with the sudden onslaught of emotion that he projects through the Bond, and even Han looks rattled for a split-second.

Unfortunately, the man bounces back quickly enough, and he sneers, "That's it, isn't it, son? The little whore is spreading her legs for you—she's got you wrapped around her little finger." Han's face is contorted into an ugly mask of anger and disgust, and his skin is red and splotchy, and for a moment, he reminds her of Hux—the memory makes her nauseated and makes her knees feel weak, and she curls her fingers into the back of Kylo's robes to remain on her feet.

Kylo growls menacingly, drawing his saber and igniting it—the crackle ominous and terrifying even though she knows he's not going to turn on her—but Han continues, seemingly oblivious to Kylo's rapidly worsening temper. "You're not the first, son—you're not going to be the last. She did it to Dameron. She fucked him until he couldn't think straight anymore, and now he's nothing more than a nuisance—don't be as foolish as him, son."

"I'm no fool," Kylo hisses, and Rey can hear the leather of his gloves creaking as he tightens his grip on his lightsaber. "Your son was, so I killed him." She senses his intention less than a second before he moves to do it, and she barely catches his arm before he attempts to shove his lightsaber through his father's chest.

She's felt Darkness in his mind already, and she knows he is still a good man—but she senses that letting him kill his father will send him into a spiral so dark and so deep, he'll never be able to recover from it. And while she doesn't think she'll ever truly be able to love another person—not after everything she had been through in her life—she does know that she cares about Kylo far more deeply and passionately than she's ever cared about anyone, and she refuses to let him destroy himself by killing his father.

She tightens her grip on his arm, ignoring his furious attempts to break free—she's not letting go.

"You've chosen your side, then," Han says in a grave tone that sounds wholly unlike him. "So be it."

And before she realizes what's happening, Han has raised his blaster and fired a shot at her—a shot that never hits its intended target.

It happens so fast, Rey barely has time to process what is going on before Kylo staggers back into her arms, and a burning phantom pain sears through her chest. "Kylo!" She cries, sinking to her knees with him—and she doesn't care that Han is still standing there, the tip of his blaster smoking, his eyes wide and horrified in a way that doesn't fit with the man that just tried to kill her—pressing her hand to his chest desperately, as though she could heal the wound with no more than sheer will power.

His end of the Bond is fading rapidly, and she doesn't know what to do to keep him from slipping away. "What did you do?" She screeches, glaring up at Han, who is still standing dumbstruck before her, his expression somewhere between shock and downright panic.

Kylo jerks in her arms, a bubble of blood forming in the corner of his lips, and she gasps in pain, clutching at her own chest as the ghost of his pain tears through her mind again, returning her full attention to him. "No, no, no," she breathes shakily, pushing his hair from his face with trembling hands. "You're going to be okay—I'll get you out if here."

And suddenly there's someone else's hands on Kylo's body, pushing hers aside, and her vision tints red. "No!" She cries, shoving roughly at Han's hands. "No, get away from him!"

"No, wait, I can help," Han pleads desperately, his blaster forgotten on the bridge behind him. "I can use the Falcon—I'll help you get him out of here, we can take him back to—" And if she were to look closer; if she would just care enough to look, she would have noticed the difference in his expression—the same desperation that is rapidly taking over her entire consciousness.

But she doesn't care.

She doesn't look.

All she cares about is getting Kylo out of here and to someone who will be able to help him.

"Don't touch him," she spits, shoving Han away again, tears burning in her eyes because he shot him—he may as well have murdered him, and she will not let him anywhere near Kylo ever again. "If you ever touch him again, I will kill you."

It's like a switch is flipped in him, because suddenly Han cackles—an eerie, unfamiliar sound that is unlike anything she's ever heard before—as he gets to his feet. "That's rich, you little whore—you're the reason he's hurt at all! This is all your fault! He's going to die because of you!"

Rey feels like her blood is boiling, and with every word that falls from Han's lips, she feels more enraged and out of control because she doesn't have time for this. Kylo's blood pulses hotly against her fingers with his every heartbeat, and she can feel him slipping further and further into territory she can't follow and that frightens her.

"Shut up," she whispers, because Han just won't stop talking and she needs to think. "Shut up!"

"This is your fault," Han continues, eyes wide and crazed as he inches forward, his fingers clenched around his apparently new-found blaster. "You made him do this, you little cunt—you did to him what you did to Dameron and I'm going to make you pay!" She can feel the fury and anger and disgust rolling off of him in waves, and it's suffocating to be stuck between Han's rage and Kylo's nothing—she can barely breathe or think, and all she knows is that he needs to stop.

Rey looks down at Kylo's increasingly pale form and finds her own emotions mirroring Han's projected emotional turmoil. She cannot wrap her mind around the possibility of losing Kylo so soon after finding him—after he found her. Her mind fills with white-hot fury and rage, welling up from a place deep down inside of her that she never even knew existed before now—one that burns with rage and coils with despair at the mere thought of losing Kylo.

And the only reason she even stands a chance of losing him is because of this man.

General Solo.

Han.

Kylo's father.

How dare he harm his own son like this? What kind of monster is he?

His earlier panic—his desperation and his apologies—were likely nothing more than an underhanded trick to get close enough to murder his wayward son. Close enough to erase Ben Solo from the galaxy once and for all, so that there will be no evidence left of the son that dared defy him.

His current vitriol was more like the monster Rey had always seen, lurking beneath the façade of Han Solo; more like the true him he'd shown himself to be to her over and over again.

And then her mind is filled with nothing but rage and despair—anger at the unfair treatment she had received at his hands—filling her with a kind of dark power she had only accessed once before. Her entire body hums when she embraces the rush of power and she revels in it, fuels it with memories of the pain and humiliation Han Solo has put her through, with fear of what he's attempting to take from her.

Han takes another, threatening, step towards where Rey is hovering over Kylo's prone body, and her control vanishes. She will not allow him another chance to take away the person she has come to cherish most—she will not allow him another step closer.

Instinctively, she draws upon that endless well of power and raises her hand, screaming as she unleashes the strongest wave of power she can towards Han, doing the only thing she can to ensure Kylo's permanent safety from the man—to give him a fighting chance of survival—and shoves Han off the walkway with the Force.

She barely hears his screams as he falls to his death, her attention drawn back to Kylo, whose breathing halted momentarily when Han fell. For a charged, tense moment or two, she can reassure herself, feel his pulse throbbing in his wrist and sense his Force signature, albeit weak and wavering.

After that moment—that long, tense heartbeat—everyone leaps into action, despite the shock of seeing Solo's measly existence being snuffed out.

She moves on complete instinct, shielding herself and Kylo from Chewbacca's precisely aimed bowcaster blasts with a Force trick she hadn't even known she could use until now, and refuses to allow herself the time to process what she just did—she needs to get Kylo out of here and to a medic.

That's her only priority, and as she feels the ground shake beneath her feet, an ear-splittingly loud explosion temporarily deafening her as she hurries towards the hangar as fast as she can while dragging a man twice her size, she knows that Finn and Poe succeeded in their mission, and all she wishes for is that they will make it out, too.

The winds are icy cold as she finally makes it to the hangar, Kylo's body heavy against hers, and she shivers at the sight of the now-abandoned airstrip.

"Come on, come on, come on," Rey chokes, using the Force to drag Kylo forward another few steps, into their battered old C-wing—one of the only spacecrafts left in the hangar—while she desperately attempts not to panic at the peculiar and dreadful feeling of his unique Force signature becoming weaker and weaker, despite the fact that he is right here beside her.

The wound on his chest—that he got because of her, kriff him, taking a kriffing blaster bolt that was meant for her—is still bleeding profusely, and the complete absence of his presence in their Bond feels like a gaping, crippling wound in her mind.

"Don't die," she mutters under her breath, manoeuvring him onto the small cot in the back of the shuttle. "Please don't die—I'm going to get us out of here and you're going to live, stang it." Her hands are shaking and she feels like she can barely breathe—and Force, she doesn't want to leave him for even a second—as she presses his bundled up cloak against the wound.

"Don't die, you stupid laser brain," she orders him, even though she knows he probably can't hear her, before she pulls her hands off of him and rushes to the pilot's seat, ignoring the fact that her hands are stained with Kylo's blood and that her eyes are watering with unshed, fearful tears.

She forces the C-wing to its limits as she pilots it off the surface of the collapsing planet, jumping into hyperspace as soon as she can—she sets the course to the Unknown Regions, which is far enough to require a seven-hour flight in hyperspace, because honestly, she doesn't care about a course or finding the others right now—and setting the autopilot before she sprints back to the cot she'd left Kylo on.

He is deathly pale by the time she reaches him, and she can barely sense him in the Force anymore. Their Bond is aching because of his absence, and she can't stop tears from rolling down her cheeks as she drops to her knees next to his prone body. "No, no, no," she cries, dragging the blood-soaked cloak away from the wound on his chest. "No, you can't do this to me." She presses her hands to his chest, reaching out towards the Force instinctively.

She knows, abstractly, that he will become one with the Force if he dies, and that he will have peace that he could never truly find in life—but she's not ready to let him go yet.

"You can't have him," she sobs, "I need him—you can't have him." Her hands glow hot with blue light, and she feels sick and tired and powerful—fuck the Force; she is not letting go of him. "Come on," she whispers, leaning forward to press her lips to his forehead. "Don't die on me. Please don't die on me."

And as suddenly as the surge of power had rushed through her veins, it's gone, and she collapses forward onto his chest. It takes her a long moment to realize that she can feel him. Not just breathing beneath her hands, but in her mind—his Force signature is stronger and brighter and it's surrounding her.

"Kylo?" Her voice is shaking and soft, and she knows he would dislike the concern she is showing, but she can't help it. "Kylo, please wake up." He is completely still for another split-second—and then he gasps, his entire body arching up as his eyes snap open and his lips part into a perfectly round 'o'.

Rey gasps, grasping at his shirt and torso fruitlessly, tears still rolling down her cheeks.

"Ow," he chokes, falling back onto the cot heavily while she grasps the front of his tunic in her fists. "That hurt." He lies on his back for a long moment, breathing in and out steadily—and she wants to hug him and slap him and then kiss the hell out of him—before turning to look at her. "What did you do?" There is a tinge of worry in his voice, and she can sense worry and a touch of panic in his mind.

"I don't know," she replies shakily, releasing her hold on his tunic only to realize that her hands are still trembling terribly and she thinks she might throw up if she moves too much. "I just—you were dying—I couldn't—I had to—"

And then she's crying again, and she wants to stop—she really does—but she can't.

She thought she was going to lose him.

He is everything to her—he's taken her in and taken care of her and punished those that sought to exploit and hurt her—and she can't bear the thought of having to create an entire new life without him in it. Kylo had shown her power and strength and he's made her strong enough to stand up for herself.

She's crying too hard to see, but she can feel his concern—not to mention his bewilderment—as he leans forward and pats her shoulder awkwardly. "Rey, don't cry—I'm okay—we'll be—"

And then she lunges forward—and she doesn't care about his weird thing with touch—and wraps her arms around his neck as she crawls onto his lap. "I'm sorry," she sobs, "I can't stop—I just—I thought I was too late…"

It takes him nearly thirty seconds to respond, and then his arms are around her and she can breathe again.

"It's okay," he whispers "I'm here, Rey. I'm here."

.

.

.

It's not until a few hours later, when she and Kylo are both seated in the cockpit, in the pilot and co-pilot's seat respectively, that Rey realizes she may have overreacted a little bit. "What do we do now?" She asks him, chewing on her lower lip uncertainly. "Is there a… back-up? Somewhere we need to converge, to regroup?"

"Of course," Kylo replies, rubbing his hand through his hair. "I don't think you and I should go back there, though." There is a sense of tension in his voice, and she can feel his energy buzzing in the back of her mind, though he is clearly shielding himself from her in their much stronger connection.

"Oh," she replies with a frown. "Is there a different meeting spot for the Knights, then?"

"There is," he nods, leaning back in his seat. "That's not where you and I are going either." His silence is frustrating and annoying and she wants to slap him—but she is too relieved that he's alive to actually damage him now.

"Where are we going then?" She asks, attempting not to show just how exasperated she is with him.

He sighs—a weary, heavy sound that resonates through the small cockpit—and shrugs. "I don't know—but we are not going back. We need to go somewhere Snoke cannot find us, or sense us."

She stares at him in shock, her jaw hanging open. "What?" She breathes, eyes wide and unsure. "Kylo, what are y—why wouldn't we—"

"They set you up," he spits, disgust and anger rolling off of him in waves. "With Hux. Snoke planned it."

She feels like the shuttle has been ripped away from beneath her, and she is having some trouble comprehending what he's trying to tell her because… It can't be true, can it?

"No," she murmurs. "No, that can't be right."

Kylo looks away and bites his full lower lip. "I wish it weren't true, Rey. I saw it in Hux's mind—when he was fleeing Starkiller… Snoke's control over him broke for a short moment, but it was long enough. I saw all that he had been hiding. He orchestrated Hux's assault on you to ensure you would feel as though you were valued and appreciated here as you aren't anywhere else."

"I can't—" Rey chokes, staring ahead that the stars that surround them. "I thought—"

"Yes," Kylo mutters bitterly, "as did I."

They sit in silence for a long moment as Rey attempts to grasp the weight of what Kylo just revealed to her. Everything she had come to believe, everything she had learned to appreciate about the First Order and its fair treatment of all genders and species feels like a lie, and she no longer knows what to believe. Her thoughts are too fast and fleeting to make sense of, and she doesn't know whether to laugh or to cry over the fact that Kylo is willing to leave behind the organisation he had dedicated his life to for her.

"Moraband," she says after a while, her voice raw and cracked. "We can hide on Moraband. If you couldn't sense me in the lower levels of the Academy with our Bond while you were on the same planet—"

"—Snoke won't be able to sense either of us," he finishes, nodding along. "It is a good idea. No one will think to search for us there either—and if the Force be with us, they will assume we perished on Starkiller Base."

It is strange to think that people might think her dead—but it also doesn't matter so much.

"Moraband it is," she sighs, leaning forward to punch in the coordinates. "And what is your plan in the long run, Master? I assume we can't hide on Moraband forever."

"No," he replies with a sigh. "No, we can't. We have to become stronger. Better. We have to get rid of Snoke eventually, before he finds another child like you or I and rips them from their family as well."

She swallows thickly, unsure of how to respond to Kylo's implication of Snoke's manipulations. "So what do we do?" She demands, setting the shuttle to autopilot before turning her seat to face him. She wants to look at him, see that he means this, that he'll stand by her side as they prepare to face the storm together.

"We train," he says seriously, his expression determined and stoic. "We train in the Dark Side until we know all that we can—" She makes a face, but he ignores her and continues, "—and then we find a teacher to show us how to use the Light Side of the Force."

"What?" Rey exclaims, eyes wide and shocked—because this doesn't make sense, what in the name of the Force is he trying to pull? "We can't use both sides," she shakes her head, "Can we?" She doesn't let him answer, because her mind is providing her with so many questions and she just—too much has happened in the past twenty-four hours. "Besides," she adds, "Where would we find a Jedi willing to teach us?"

The moment she says the words out loud, she realizes what Kylo has in mind, and she wants to tell him no, because there is no way that it is going to work out the way he hopes—it's an asinine idea that will only serve to put them both right back into danger—but she finds herself strangely tongue-tied.

"It will work," Kylo leans forward, reaching for both her hands with his. "We will become strong and powerful on Moraband. I will teach you all that I know. And then I will take you to Luke Skywalker, so that he may teach you all that he knows. And we will be ready."

To Be Continued in 'Absolute Magnetism'