The Force seemed to be biding its time after the battle of Crait, letting physical and emotional wounds knit before drawing Rey and Kylo Ren together. They both considered the possibility that the Force bond had been broken by their discord, that something precious had been sacrificed in the name of independence. The grief coloured everything they did, both haunted by regret and pride, but at the same time neither knew what they would do or say if it was restored.

Since nominating himself Supreme Leader, Kylo Ren's isolation had become complete. Hux chafed in his subordination, and Kylo's only entertainment was in thwarting the young leader's schemes.

Kylo flicked his finger on the pad on his desk to shuffle to the back of the reports, looking for the most innocent and boring. He ran a keyword search on a thousand page technical report on sanitation, his mouth twisting in a bitter smile when sure enough he'd found tonight's gem. His most trusted troopers were to be given an inspection tour of outer rim outposts.

Last night he'd found that his personal shuttle was to undergo a lengthy and unnecessary refit, the night before that all personnel were banned from his quarters including custodians and technicians, then all medical and emergency supplies stripped from his TIE, and before that his personal accounts were to be frozen as part of a routine audit. Each order had been countermanded or rejected, but then came another and another.

His moment of success soured. Hux would be frustrated, and likely upping his ante soon. Scanning back into the reports he looked for something else, something he could have overlooked.

He grew frustrated, running searches in every report for references to himself, or worse, Rey.

Opening a new communique, he put in a set of orders that he'd been considering for weeks now. Hux would go on a full inspection tour of all First Order bases, starting with the smallest and working his way up to the largest, preparing a full report on overlooked resources and inefficiencies, now that they could turn their focus from the Resistance.

It would give Kylo some breathing room while he sorted himself out.

Angry that he still felt like Hux had slipped things by him, he pushed away from his desk and though it was night, felt power surging through his limbs.

A personal attendant droid hovered discreetly in a corner.

"Get me a sparring partner," Kylo barked, "I need a challenge."

He stalked the corridors to the armoury, wanting the space the main room provided compared to the area he could use in his chambers. It was dark when he arrived, lit only by stars and the safety track lights. He pulled off his coat and shirt, throwing them onto a bench. The door opened.

"You requested a partner, sir?"

Captain Phasma has resurfaced yet again from her encounter with the Resistance, the high polish on her suit indicative of her recovery inside and out.

"I didn't expect to see you here," he said with a bored tone. He'd never had much patience for the captain beyond appreciation for her skilled handling of the stormtroopers program. She had a thirst for recognition and glory that set his teeth on edge, and it made him want to sink back into the shadows.

"With the new edict that only senior ranking members who have been certified in martial arts combat training may spar with the Supreme Leader, it left me the only option, my lord."

Rage edged around the corners of Kylo's vision. He'd been completely cut off from his regular assortment of sparring partners. There it was. Droids were no replacement for people.

"I'm sure you saw and approved it as part of the internal security brief yesterday, sir," she continued. "I'm afraid I will not be permitted to be of use long, as I will be departing in the morning for a mission to Naboo that's expected to last several months."

"Choose your weapon," Kylo ordered.

Her stance widened and her body centred, pulling a Z6 baton from behind her back and activating it. She'd come ready to play. It crackled and spit as it extended, and for the first time it felt like Phasma may be more of a challenge then he'd anticipated.

"When would you like to call it, sir?" Her voice was confident, and he could sense excitement and anticipation in the Force around her. There was no doubt Hux was hoping Phasma could rough him up.

"Until one of us says stop," he said, brandishing his lightsaber in unnecessary flourishes as it burst into scarlet fire.

An hour later both Kylo and Phasma were showing their exhaustion, and trying not to. Neither willing to give in, they circled and clashed over and over, Phasma pulling out small blasters, common hunting knives, small paralyzing devices, all manner of things from her suit.

Annoyed at her treasure trove as the weight of his lightsaber seemed to be increasing every moment, he raised his hand and rotated her with the Force, plucking her chromium armour plates off one by one. She screamed like a hawk as she spun, the piercing war cry growing louder suddenly as he flicked his finger and pulled off her helmet.

He dropped her to the floor with a swift gesture, and for a moment he was too stunned to attack. She was beautiful, with a halo of golden braids coiled around her head like a crown where they'd cushion her helmet. A snarl crossed her face, her eyes livid. She took advantage of his surprise and the lightness of her simple tight pants and simple white shirt, and made a daring charge straight at him. He toppled, winded, the lightsaber falling from his hand and she rode him down to the floor.

Before he'd had a chance to catch his breath she punched him across the face, straddling him with one hand on his throat, then both. A braid came loose, dangling to brush his cheek. It was soft. She felt soft. He felt trapped, far too aware of her body, with panic and fear rushing in to fill the void his anger had left.

She breathed heavily above him, hanging her head, the pressure on his throat and stomach increasing as she lost steam and was collapsing down into his body.

There was a small rush of wind, a tang of machine metal, burnt wiring, and old leather that he associated with only one ship. He turned his head, panting through the pain in his lungs.

Rey sat on a bunk in the Millenium Falcon, her knees tucked up to her chest in the semi-darkness. She was in her undershirt, a blanket covering her bottom half. He could just make out a form sleeping beside her in the bed, curled up to her side.

She noticed him, her eyes growing round. He felt fury rising. Phasma pushed off of him, staggering to her feet and spitting.

"We're done," he told her in a low voice. "Leave immediately."

He gathered up her possessions and armour with the Force with a sweep of his hand, and unceremoniously pushed her out the doors. Alone in the room he slowly brought himself up, trying to hide his breathlessness.

Any thoughts he'd had on what he wanted to say to her if the Force brought them together again were gone.

"Traitor," she whispered, trying not to disturb her bedfellow. She stood up to her full height, her lips tight.

"Who is that," Kylo demanded softly, rolling to his feet. He watched Rey's eyes rove across his body, noticing scratches and welts from his hour's practice mingled with sweat.

"Rey," he said more firmly, stretching out the spot in his jaw where Phasma had hit him, feeling the click of it resetting. He summoned his lightsaber handle to his hand, gripping it tightly, itching to carve through whomever dared touch her.

Saying nothing, Rey just shook her head, hurt/anger/jealousy and an overwhelming self-doubt pouring through their bond.

"Are you such a slave to your dark passion?" she whispered, judgment clear.

"I've taken two different oaths of chastity," he said sharply. "I sleep alone." The lightsaber crackled back to life and he pointed it at the bed. "But I see your weakness. Did that old Jedi never inform you about the discipline required to tread this path? Did the nights get too long and lonely?" His voice never rose, never to her even now. "You shut me out for this?"

Rey herself crackled with indignation.

"You dare," she whispered cuttingly, "you dare say that to me when I find you with your lover literally on top of you!"

Gently pulling back the blanket behind her, Rey revealed the face of young woman, heavy bandaging around her head and hands. Kylo's eye twitched as he lowered the lightsaber and watched the little woman seem to swell in size like a dragon.

He had been so wrong.

"What I do with my body, Kylo Ren, is my own fucking business, but it's a bit rich for you to play the jealous lover and the holy virgin right now. I'm sure being Supreme Leader makes it easy to attract all the attention you crave."

"You've been in my mind, don't you know me at all?" he cried finally, switching off his lightsaber and throwing it at the wall behind him in frustration.

"That was Phasma," he started.

Rey's face became thunderous. He could feel the power swelling around her.

"We were just sparring. She's the only person Hux will let me practice with," he tried to finish quickly, his tone steady and even. Calming, he hoped. "If it makes you feel better I'm fairly certain she was trying to kill me when you arrived."

Feel it, damn it, he thought, trying to push what he'd felt during the encounter with Phasma to Rey.

For the first time she stepped closer to him. Raising her hand she looked deep into his eyes and probed. She pulled him back through the long, exhausting fight in his memory, the unwelcome intimacy of the conclusion, and the rage.

"You're being caged," she said,. "You hate this."

"I have to find someone to replace Hux. I can't leave him in power. He's a monster."

The word rang between them.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "You're right. You never chose me, you're free."

Rey blushed.

"I'm sorry I called you a traitor. I'm sure you're true to your vows."

Heat burned inside Kylo Ren. The vows had been an excuse and it now felt like a lie.

"I'd break them too," he said roughly, "I've broken everything else."

He sat heavily, his exhausted muscles pulling him gracelessly down to the floor.

"Are you hurt?" Rey asked hesitantly.

"Is nothing," he dismissed. "The fight was long."

"If Phasma fights so well, how could Finn beat her?"

Rey felt the hint of amusement in the bond that never registered on Kylo's face.

"He blinds her with rage, she gets sloppy."

"Like your pilots going after the Falcon instead of following pattern."

He nodded, remembering the uncharacteristic lack of discipline from his troops.

"You should abandon that ship. It's like a target."

"It's special," she said, offended.

"It's garbage."

"It made the Kessel Run in less than fourteen parsecs."

"Twelve," Kylo corrected automatically.

Rey raised an eyebrow. He shrugged, lying back on his back to stare at the stars outside.

"Where did you stash your stuff aboard," Rey said suddenly. "Smuggler ship like this must have a hundred hiding places, you must have had a spot you hid things as a kid."

He clenched his fist, squeezed his eyes right, pushing back the memories threatening to choke him.

"X marks the spot," he stated evenly.

They were silent. He assumed she was thinking over his clue.

"Ben," she said softly. He opened his eyes. She was standing over him. Swiftly folding her legs below her she sat cross legged, her knees skimming his shoulder and upper arm. "We were both jealous at the thought of being with someone else. Do you think it's just because of the bond?"

His heart gave a few painful pumps, bracing for grief.

"Rey," he said slowly, "I asked you to join me to rule the galaxy. I begged. Did you think I meant as colleagues?"

The silence was long.

"I forget sometimes that just weeks ago you were a slave. This is your first taste of freedom and I must seem like I'm asking you to give it up to me."

Screwing up his courage, he found her eyes.

"I am bound. You are free."

Rey looked close to tears.

"I hate Kylo Ren," she whispered. "I pity Ben Solo." He bit lips to control his face. "You. You I love." Rey put her hand on his heart, her palm sweaty on his bare chest. "But I don't know who you are. And neither do you. And until you figure that out I don't know what to do."

The touch brought Rey further into Kylo's world, and he watched the light on her face change from the dim safety beams of her ship to reflecting the million stars shining through the glass on the training room.

She looked around, taking in the debris of his battle with Phasma and gave a low whistle.

Kylo wondered if she could feel the way his heart was beating wildly, his brain processing her words. Dark and light warred in him, passion and gentleness. He covered her hand with his and sat up, holding it to him.

"Wait for me."

The intensity of his eyes sent a scramble of mixed emotion through the bond, and Rey's breath caught. There was so little space between their bodies.

"Escape," she pleaded in a whisper. "You're a captive here."

She sat on her knees, raising her face level to his. Freeing her hand from his, she cupped his face, her thumbs stroking the planes of him, his cheekbones, his jaw. He watched her eyes flick between his, not daring to move.

Eyes closing, she brought her mouth to his and ghosted a kiss across his lips. He couldn't breath.

"Come to me," she whispered against his mouth, "I'll help you."

The darkness in him rose against the temptation of the light.

"Be careful, Rey," he growled, pulling away from her hands and wrapping his fingers tightly around hers. "Trying to seduce the dark side is like throwing fuel on a fire."

He pressed fierce kisses to each of her wrists, never breaking his eyes from hers. She went scarlet.

From behind her he heard the mechanical swoop of a door opening. Rey's head swivelled sharply to look, and then she vanished.

Suddenly alone with the cold expanse of the stars around him, Kylo lay back on the matted floor and noisily blew out a breath.

She hates me. She pities me. She loves me. She doesn't know who I am.

I should have let her kiss me.