apparare | i found something in the woods somewhere.

i found something in the woods somewhere.

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[ In a tremendous moment of irony, imagined greenery and the heavy presence of Luke Skywalker fills her mind, but unlike Kylo Ren, she feels no urge to flinch away from the feeling. Instead, she briefly preoccupies herself with curiosities as to what prompted it, a fleeting concern that is quickly dismissed in favor of her failing attempts to make any sense of military strategy. People, she can understand, but she can hardly conceptualize a scale so grand as total galactic war. Leia and Poe do it with an ease that dizzies her. ]

I left before they were done deciding. She thinks without the Resistance here, the planet will fall to the First Order again. We need to be sure it's defended.

[ Which seems obvious, now. Just as Rey would never leave her friends and the Resistance behind to escape, neither would Organa leave behind the people who had thrown their lot in with her cause. ]

Without the Corellian fleet, there is no Resistance, but there's no way for us to withstand another battle like that so soon. [ Silence, then, ] I think Poe is convincing her that our plan is the best one, to steer as much of the fleet away as we can by misleading Snoke. But the fleet might not follow us.

( Kylo rolls his eyes at her response. A pointless endeavor, given that she can't actually see it. )

You won't be able to avoid a battle if General Organa decides to stay, and it's a battle that you won't win, I can assure you.

( He's nearly back at the Falcon now, picking his way through the forest with careful, precise steps, the weight of his saber banging into his thigh where he's clipped it to his belt. Kylo knows what the First Order's - what Hux's and even his own - strategy would be were positions flipped. Corellia would take its place as a wash, lost to the opposition, and that would be that. Organa has more sympathy for lost planets than is good for her, though he supposes he can sympathize with the idea that losing Corellian support would be a devastating loss to the Resistance's chances. It's more difficult to look at it that way, through the lens of a First Order operative that can choose to be more selective about the systems left standing.

In the Resistance camp now, firmly or otherwise, sweat starts to bead again under the high neck of Kylo's tunic. )

The First Order will follow the bulk of the Resistance when it leaves the system. Hux isn't going to risk losing both the general and a traitor to Lord Snoke personally in order to teach the Corellians a lesson. Snoke wouldn't stand for it. Whether or not the Order is able to locate the Resistance fleet immediately after leaving Corellian airspace is neither here nor there. Corellia will have to be dealt with in one way or another. ( But it's not his decision to make and he doesn't rightfully give a damn what happens to the Corellians, if he's being perfectly honest. ) I don't envy Dameron that conversation.

[ He makes a point. A lure would persuade better with more than just the Millennium Falcon on the end of it. As much as she's sure General Organa wants to remain with Corellia, she might be the best way to guarantee that the First Order fleet will jump out of there. Rey doesn't like Kylo Ren's willingness to use his own mother as bait on principle, but she says nothing on it; reason supports his judgment. ]

I'm sure that's what they're discussing even now. Regardless, we'll need to be ready to lead them away, even split off from the rest of the Resistance to thin the herd to something they can defend against.

[ And, of course, hope that they're able to shake the ships that follow later. ]

Hurry back. I want us ready to take off when the General gives the order.

( There is always, Kylo supposes, the notion of a decoy within the decoy. Bait, as Rey couches it, in a way. Building a ruse around the assumption that both Kylo Ren and Leia Organa are on board the Millennium Falcon would guarantee more chance of their strategy's success than if they were to be separated, with Organa visibly remaining behind. But bait or no bait, they are still faced with the dilemma of what will happen once the First Order realizes Organa has remained with the Corellians. Perhaps by that point they will be able to scramble more troops and prepare themselves for the consequential battle, another on Corellian soil, but it's a lot to ride on the outcome of an if.

It isn't Kylo's problem to decide, however. Even if he were given input beyond what he's offered today, his and the Resistance's interests are only mutually beneficial so long as they involve the other's escape. If the Resistance is taken down before it can leave Corellia, then logic dictates that Kylo Ren falls into the First Order's hands as well. He prefers not to think of himself as a traitor or an informant as long as he's merely looking out for his own hide. What happens following their success or failure in trying to break atmo and leave the system is a non-issue. Immediate survival is all that matters. )

Yes, ma'am. ( His tone of voice when replying to her is mocking without even having to try, derision rumbling across the channel and translating as easily as it would were he standing three feet from her. ) What was that burst of pain on your end that I got slapped in the face with earlier?

( Through the trees, he can see the bucket of carbon scoring, rust, and old parts coming into view, broken in places by thick trunks and dark, peeling bark. The droid chirps somewhere off to his left and charges ahead. Kylo can't imagine anyone or anything being so eager to get near a verifiable piece of garbage and continues through the forest at a more normal pace. He's at the foot of the ramp before he nudges out at her again, uninterested in running bodily into the Wookie on accident. )

I'm fine. [ She snaps it back, one more in a long string of efforts to resist the concern of others and how it could project weakness onto her. Worse, she feels the rollicking need to come to her pride's defense that she'd been startled out of maintenance. She finishes closing the ceiling panel just as she feels him nudge the edge of her perception, announcing his presence on board, and she stuffs the hydrospanner back into a metal toolkit at her feet.

With it secured, she rounds the center support of the ship to stop in front of the ramp, arms crossed beneath her chest, painting a pretty enough picture of her own stubbornness. ] I didn't think you cared. [ Her dry sarcasm baits him to challenge her by persisting on the subject, dares him to press where he isn't wanted now that she's paralleled it with sentiment. She doubts he will. ]

I wasn't asking whether or not you were fine.

( His voice remains casual, not rising to the bait that she lays out for him necessarily but still making a point about how little he actually cares. He doesn't care, not really, not beyond the scope of curiosity and possible exploitation. The way that she sets her chin and shoulders, crosses her arms over her chest, persists as a stubbornness that he would like to put his boot on, if only in the interest of besting it.

Kylo scowls up at her from where she has the high ground at her end of the ramp. Uncomfortable and uninterested in the metaphor that it cuts between them, he leads himself up the plank and ducks automatically on his way inside. His footsteps are heavy in the interior, bouncing off of the walls with unfamiliar echoes that denote the weight he throws behind each stride. It's nothing that he necessarily does on purpose, but there's a certain weight that presses down on him the more he steps onto this ship. Over to his right, he knows, is the cockpit, and he resolutely does not glance down that corridor, just as he'd made sure to avoid it the last time he was in these twisting halls. )

Where's your co-pilot?

( He knows that he's around here somewhere, can feel his presence without having to cast out too far. He would rather busy himself with something technical than find himself involved in another conversation that may be warranted in its arrival but still manages to be less than welcome. He also wonders if Dameron is around given the droid having followed him here, but that's of less concern to Kylo than someone who ripped a hole in his side. )

The cockpit.

[ Her tone asks implicitly where else he would be when she's trying to get them ready to move, but she doesn't bother voicing it. Instead, she wheels around to face Kylo as he hikes up into the hallway, towering over her at his proper height now that they're on a level playing field. ]

You're making me nervous. [ There's restlessness in how he questions her, in how he settles squarely between her and the hallway to the cockpit where Chewie is waiting so that he can look at her without staring down it. A part of her hopes that Chewie will come down that hall and surprise him, but she knows it's unlikely. The wookiee hasn't seemed any more eager to see him than the rest. ] Where's BB-8?

[ Concern colors her voice, the kind that still seems unnecessary to so many for something like a droid, the kind that asks after him like she might any other friend. Poe will find him, she's sure, but she honestly is a bit curious as to why he was tailing Kylo in the first place. ]

( The attention that she calls to the way he is making her feel draws him up short somewhat, though it's more about meeting a mental barrier than it is a physical one. He doesn't flinch away from the implication or come to a screeching halt in his ascension up the gangplank - if anything, his stop feels natural, back to the cockpit although he should keep his eyes on the corridor leading down, given a Wookie's predisposition toward aggression and Kylo Ren essentially being public enemy number one - and he doesn't apologize, but his eyes do skip over her face for a beat.

It isn't his intention to make her uneasy, but Kylo supposes that it's something that can't be helped just because they've been wandering in and out of each other's heads for the better part of a day. He does see the difference between his restlessness now and its absence earlier, in the forest, and pins most of the blame on his session with Skywalker, although he's not about to tell her that or even readily address whether or not she feels ill at ease around him. It's probably for the best, in reality: he's a murderer and she could kill him. Kylo is used to people being afraid of him, besides; this just feels like being back on familiar ground. )

How should I know? ( He asks it with casual disinterest, not looking to rile her up to the point that she feels the need to have Chewbacca put him in a headlock or thrust her saber in his face but also not rising to the occasion of becoming overly defensive. ) It was with Skywalker when I went back for my lightsaber, and he followed me to the forest. Maybe I make your illustrious master nervous as well. I assumed it was coming to you, but as you've pointed out: not your droid.

( He gets the impression that the little rolling ball might have just been following him for the sake of curiosity, or perhaps it was operating under the assumption that Dameron was here helping adjust the specs of the ship. More likely is Skywalker's ability to keep a Force-bound eye on him as well as one capable of recording. Kylo tries - poorly - not to take it personally either way and brushes past Rey to work his way deeper into the ship, away from the cockpit, trying to shed layers of unease and the sensation of eyes on his back as he goes. )

I won't be going into the cockpit. ( He calls it loud enough for everyone on the ship to be clear, just so there is no miscommunication. ) What else needs done in order to get this floating dumpster off this rock?

Stop calling it that.

[ Her teeth grind and she wheels as he moves past her and deeper into the ship, away from where Chewie lingers in the cockpit. She can already imagine the low hum of embittered frustration that must be building beneath the wookiee's fur, and she doesn't blame him for it in the slightest. Having Kylo sweeping around like he owns the place is beginning to raise her hackles as well. ]

And don't touch anything. Do you even know your way around a ship's mechanics? [ The thinly veiled implication, of course, is that he merely sloughed that work off onto others to complete while he stomped around intimidatingly and failed to interrogate prisoners. Mostly, she doesn't like the idea of him having the chance to interfere with her memory of Han Solo, even if it is a relic that belongs in a museum by now.

He had pushed away everything in his life that Rey had spent years longing for even a glimmer of; she didn't want to watch him tread all over what he had cast aside now. Han Solo was the closest she'd had to a father, and the Falcon was all she had left of him. Kylo Ren had chosen to abjure the love of his father, his inheritance, and now he arrived back to insult it further after she had chosen to welcome him aboard it to save his life. ]

I'm only stating the obvious.

( The ship itself makes him cranky. Every time he turns a corner or catches a glimpse of some shoddy wiring out of his peripheral, he is transplanted twenty years back in time to long days spent zooming around the corridors of this freighter or hanging over open compartments in the flooring while Solo tried for the umpteenth time to get some poorly held together piece of machinery to bend to his will. He would tuck himself into the galley or watch holos in the crew quarters and think that this would be the day that his father would smuggle him off-world before his mother noticed, and they could make some run together or go on some errand and all that lonely, desolate nothingness would stay home where it belonged.

Days like that never came and all he has now are reminders twisted and intensified by time and experience and current events. He sees Solo in every crack and crevice of this ship and every second that he spends on it is an exercise in trying not to destroy something for all the trouble it causes. Rey's obvious irritation at his disrespect toward something that she has clearly inherited - along with Solo's affection for seeing his ship as a home - only serves to set him further on edge, and all the effort that he had poured into not being overly defensive easily switches tracks in order to focus on becoming defensive. He throws a wall up again in his mind under the pretense that she will have the same difficulty getting through as she had before.

Whether that holds up is anyone's guess, but he doesn't have the luxury of figuring it out before he does it. As for her question, he's a halfway decent mechanic when he needs to be but doesn't take any pride or pleasure in the task the way that she does, up to her elbows in engine grease and smelling like motor oil half the time. )

I've hardly thrown myself into the task the way that you seem predisposed to, but I'm not actually an idiot, thank you. ( Kylo knows he should relent. He knows that he needs to get it together before his temper climbs and climbs until it spins out of control or before their mutual pushing at one another culminates in something mutually destructive, not just for the two of them but for the ship itself. He broke her speeder on Yaga Minor halfway by accident because she made him angry; the combination of the two of them, after what has transpired between them today, is a landmine of dangerous potential. He would be better off with his head stuck in something and his hands set to work at a task. Kylo Ren does better as a force in motion than as something stagnant and stationary. ) Just tell me what to do.

( In the interest of keeping the ship together, of not setting the both of them off in some cataclysmic fight that ends with them both on opposite ends of Skywalker and Organa's joint stare, Kylo crosses his arms over his chest and stares down at Rey, actively making an effort to shut out the memories that assault him from every corner. )

[ Palpable tension electrifies the air between them, crackling as if it were its own living, breathing entity. The metal of the ship hums with it, as if it were a real electrical current, trembles under the pressure that mounts, and Rey's jaw remains tight with her reluctance to waiver. The ship responds as if it knows it is responsible for the faded but persistent battle lines drawn between them as much as Han Solo himself might.

But Rey is the one to flinch away first, more determined to save the Resistance than to prove herself right against the stubbornness of Kylo Ren. Her eyes drop first, then her head turns away, and finally she steps beyond him to the circuitry bay tucked in the main hold. ]

Make sure the wiring wasn't damaged. We took hits on our landing approach that shorted some of the systems. I think I followed most of it in the circuit paths that lead through the paneling, but you should be able to check the main breakers here to see if they're responsive.

[ She doesn't look him in the eye while she pulls open the paneling for him to inspect, stepping back and putting her hands on her hips. ] I'm going to inspect the life support systems to see that we aren't going to be hemorrhaging oxygen once we break the atmosphere while we're trying to outrun half the First Order's fleet.

( If there is a glimmer of satisfaction directed toward a victory perceived as won, Kylo doesn't let it cross the threshold of himself. He certainly doesn't let it manifest in a physical way, not even by relaxing his shoulders or posture, following after her with a rod of steel sewn and stitched into his spine to keep him at full height. He doesn't reply to her, not trusting himself to avoid saying something scathing, but nods and begins removing layers of armor and fabric to roll up his sleeves as she pulls open the paneling to reveal the sinew and intestines of wiring beneath.

He is left standing in the main hold behind her, eyes skipping from one bit of circuitry to the next, in just the plain black of his flightsuit and boots. When she steps back, he tugs his leather gloves out of his pocket and begins pulling them back on in the interest of not electrocuting himself. Halfway decent mechanic often meant burnt fingertips and sparks and smoke corded through his hair. He hasn't done any of his own rewiring on a ship since before he was assigned to Hux and the Finalizer, but he's rather talented at splicing and is sure he can suss out the details of something less complex. The leather cushions his hands and makes the burns over his knuckles ignite in new discomfort, but he ignores it. )

What's the matter? ( He questions her without immediately turning around, leaning in further with the intention of fussing with one of the breakers as suggested. His fingers press into the framework of the ship and something makes a clicking sound, as if the ship itself is withdrawing from him. Kylo looks back over his shoulder at her and continues where he left off. ) Don't trust me with the life support?

( It's not meant to be taken seriously, at any rate. She's the mechanic, not him, and it's plainly obvious that he can acquiesce that point with minimal protest once he turns back around to bury his head and hands in the task at hand. Like most everything that he does, Kylo at least throws himself into the work with the dedication necessary to take it seriously. It's nice to have something to focus on other than the rolling current of conflict and free fall that he has been in for the last twenty-four hours. )

[ The sound of shifting fabric draws her attention briefly over her shoulder, fixes it on him; for a moment, she stands to watch while he looks over the circuitry, taking stock, trying to decide if she can trust him to accomplish anything with it on his own. His question prompts her to sneer half-heartedly at his back, which she quickly tries to school into something neutral when he looks back at her.

But she accepts that she's hovering, and that they'll have to make do and turns away, striding through the open archway that leads out into the main and forward hold, then over to the life support systems on the starboard side of the Falcon. ] Try not to mess anything up.

[ She scowls as she leaves him, the metal corridors of the Falcon carrying her voice from two empty storage areas away. Truthfully, she wishes he had the mechanical skill for her to see fit trusting him with the rest of the prep work for the Falcon. They had pushed well into daylight and by the time they lifted off the planet, the sun would be sinking again, as it had while fires lit the battle for Corellia that she had felled Kylo in. It seemed a lifetime ago now, and therefore, a lifetime since she had last slept. If they were to escape the First Order's pursuing fleet, there was no telling how long it would be until she got the opportunity again.

But while Chewie tested the engines and instruments, she needed to do the last of the interior systems checks, so she swallowed a yawn, pushed sweat off her forehead, and crouched in front of the paneling to check the screens that reported out the values for the life support systems. The numbers blurred together until she blinked to improve her focus with a heavily drawn breath that put her head back on her shoulders. ]

Hold it together. [ She muttered it quietly, intended for herself only. (Maybe a little of it was intended for the Falcon itself; it was equal parts rust and metal by now. If it didn't hold together—) It wouldn't be the first time she'd had to stay awake. She remembered the working ship she'd found on Jakku, the persistence with which she'd both guarded it through the night and worked on it through the days until she'd allowed herself the luxury of allies in her task. All she needed was the same drive now. She shut one of the life support panels and moved onto the atmospheric controls. ]

( Every breath he takes is as equally full of electricity and fumes as it is oxygen. From outside, the cool, Corellian air filters into the Falcon's corridors on strong gusts of wind and dries the dampness at the back of his neck, cooling his skin. His hands sweat under the thick leather of his gloves, and he spends a moment studying the ruined backs of them where plasma scorched through to singe his skin angry and red, but the fingers are in perfect working condition, and as such he waits until Rey's footsteps have stopped stomping their way down the corridor before shoving his hair out of his face and sticking his nose back in the fuse box, testing the wiring as instructed.

Without the heavy varnish of his outer layers and the high neck of his armor, his sleeves rolled back far enough that his elbows show, the task is not so laborious. Those pieces of his person are still close by, tossed over a cargo canister off to his left, but they don't serve as much of a purpose as they might have had he retrieved his helmet and worn them all together. Kylo knows that it's a ridiculous conception, to hide his face behind a mask and pull on a second skin, but he has grown so much into Han Solo's features that the level of exposure afforded to him as a result of not having those materials leaves him somewhat glad for the relative anonymity that the ship provides. Eventually they will leave, and eventually they will land again, and eventually he will have to show his face in a number of ways if he decides to stick around - he isn't completely sold on that point just yet - and by that time the relative secrecy of Kylo Ren's ancestry might not be so relative or secret anymore. Saying Ben Solo's name might be treason, but that's hardly stopped it from happening all the same.

His thoughts list toward idle the longer he spends "trying not to mess anything up," as Rey had so blithely put it. Kylo works in silence for a while, testing the breakers in the meantime. Her work is admirable - he's not surprised - and the wiring is perfectly routed - of course - but he spends some small amount of time patching up some disintegrating casing on a bundle of cables that he spots when he turns his head and peers down the inner lining of the Falcon's walls. He has to rip it toward him with a sharp tug through the Force when it refuses to come loose from the tangled knot its worked itself into, and pops with a burst of light that isn't unexpected, though it leaves his fingertips hot as he twists the wire around his index finger in order to cut the broken casing away. It's nothing that's going to cause disruptions when they break atmo or if they need to do some quick maneuvering, but it could start a fire if things go south, and Kylo isn't interested in dying of smoke inhalation.

At one point, he hears heavy footsteps on the gangway coming in his direction before they veer off sharply down another path. He hears Chewbacca bark something out toward Rey and takes great pains to ignore it entirely, withdrawing from the paneling with sweat beading along his hairline and up into his scalp.

Kylo nudges her through the Force, reluctant to leave the vicinity when he isn't sure whether or not the Wookie has gone back the long way to the cockpit, and gets a wash of exhaustion that blinks itself away. )

I'm sure you'll be pleased to know that I didn't mess anything up. The wiring is responsive, for the most part. Nothing that's going to wreak havoc on your systems. There's some fluctuation in the lighting in this corridor when other systems are engaged, but you don't need to worry about light when you've got TIE fighters on your tail. ( He thinks fondly of caf, blinking heavily as he works the gloves back off his hands to wipe the sweat away. The wind whistles in through the open door once more and calls goosebumps on his pale arms. ) What else?

Pre-flight check of the hyperdrive and shields still needs to be done. [ The interruption effectively distracts her from her conversation with Chewbacca, and Rey drops her head, raising a palm to push hair out of her face and nods, in a hurry to disengage because the frustration of interacting with Kylo Ren has a way of forcing her to push other distractions aside.

She turns away, hands on her hips, as Chewbacca heads down to search out the source of the alarm light that flashes to indicate that there's someone approaching at the base of the cargo ramp. ]

That'll be flight orders from the General. Test the shields for responsiveness, and I'll run checks of the hyperdrive. [ 'While Chewie says goodbye' goes unsaid, though it's really what Rey attempts to prioritize here. They're closer than she can entirely conceptualize, something to do with the Galactic Civil War if she had to guess, or their shared sentiment for Han Solo. Whatever it is, she doesn't want to interrupt with business when they might be down the ramp parting sentimentally.

Instead, she trudges into the cockpit and drops into the pilot's seat, flipping switches on the instrument panel to test the lights that signal the hyperdrive's engagement. Red flashes to yellow, then blue, and she sits back in the seat, nodding her relief at the lights themselves before redirecting her attention out the front window, through which she sends her own lingering goodbyes to another planet. One on a long line. It seems the First Order has chased them halfway across the galaxy, keeping her from putting down any kind of roots but for those that curl and twine through the rusted steel bones of the Falcon.

Chewie interrupts her despondence before too long, and her sun-freckled face turns up towards him to listen as he reports in warbling howls their mission. Resolutely, she nods. ] We've got our orders. Your mother won't be coming aboard, nor Luke. The General and her council determined there was too great a risk in transporting so many Resistance leaders together under the assumption we could overtake and outrun the First Order.

[ That meant Kylo Ren, Chewie, and Rey were determined to be a cost they could afford to pay, should it go sideways; Luke and Leia were not. Rey doesn't disagree, but it's a fact worth noting. It takes Rey some time before she goes any further with the plan, weighing the truth of their expendability with what she wants to ask of Kylo Ren to ensure their success. ]

Snoke might not have the grip on you that he once did, but is that connection still open?

( Given the reputation that precedes the ship's hyperdrive inconsistencies, Kylo is happy to be the one to test the shields as opposed to the alternative. He's flooded with the General's presence, though he's able to keep it turned down to a slight smattering of energy and hostile warmth on the horizon, the task of testing the shields taking up the bulk of his concentration. Kylo does not answer Rey or search out her presence or mind again in the long moments between the alarm sounding and Organa's trace signature through the Force fading to a slight blip on the radar. He certainly makes no move to leave the belly of the ship in order to say goodbye, nor does he cast his attention further outward in search of Skywalker through the throng and mess of the Resistance camp's populace.

Instead he spends a long time trying to figure out why the starboard side's shield is at a lower level of power than the rest of the ship and ultimately concludes that the energy required to complete the loop of power supplied to that side is tied up in other tasks. He's halfway through the process of trying to divert power back to the disengaged shields when Rey gets the drop on him and her thoughts plummet into his head like a meteoroid. )

I'm crushed. You starboard shield is operating at seventy-five percent, so if you come under fire, maybe show them the other side.

( The dark, flat, automatic sarcasm of his tone is exacerbated by the amount of grease that has worked its way under his fingernails and up to his elbows - and high on his forehead as he shoves his hair out of his face, damp with perspiration - and he makes a sharp, grunting sound as the hydrospanner he is using to close up shop gets jammed and requires additional manipulation through the Force in order to bend to the task. Kylo looks forward to being on board this hunk of metal with Chewbacca about as much as can be expected, but he supposes it's a better alternative than trying to share space with the entire armada of people he has betrayed and tried to kill more than once in the last fifteen years.

He's on his way to questioning her about the status of her own goodbyes - FN-2187 primarily - with no small amount of derision when she cuts him off and drops an active bomb in his lap. Rey isn't physically present to see the scowl that darkens his face, but his presence between them flickers and then shutters altogether, in the interest of keeping his emotions quiet as opposed to broadcasting them like a lighthouse in the dark. Kylo realizes too late that his reaction is telling enough. )

I haven't exactly rung his bell in the interest of seeing who's home. ( Kylo gets the sense that the Supreme Leader would not be pleased were he to let the floodgates down long enough for his master to locate him through the Force, and he has made zero effort to search out Snoke since he was so easily able to find them earlier. Closing the paneling, Kylo gets the sense that he knows what she's going to ask him, and it leaves him with the automatic assumption that he has been right about trading one leash for another the entire time. ) Why?

[ The ache of emptiness washes in to replace the tight frustration she feels emanating from him for an instant through the Force, and Rey sighs, winding down knobs once she’s satisfied that the ship will at least make it to lightspeed. The journey back, and its ability to hold together while the pressure of space buffets against it is another story.

Sitting back in her pilot’s seat, she stares out the window, searching for answers that don’t await her there. No one, she has come to realize, has the answers for themselves, and there certainly isn’t anyone with extra to go around that they might share with her. Chewie approaches from behind her in the cockpit and tilts his head in silent question, to which she shakes her head discouragingly. ]

Get us going. I’ll only be a moment. [ That’s a lie, and they both know it. A dissatisfied growl rumbles out of the back of the wookiee’s throat, but Rey pushes one palm onto the headrest of her seat and navigates past him in the narrow space out of the cockpit to search Kylo down where he assesses the shields.

She won’t be muscling her way into his mind for this. She knows what she’s asking. If he chooses to assent, it will be on his own part, not because she influenced him.

It takes only a few moments for the steady thud of her footsteps to carry her into the doorway behind him, and she leans up against it with her arms crossed, lounging with more casual comfort than she feels. ]

Because you can save the Resistance. [ It’s clear in her disposition that were it her, she would feel a responsibility to do so: there is no debate whether or not it would be something worth doing. She would set herself on fire just to see the Resistance see another day to push its goals out because she believes that the General is the best bet for the galaxy, that Poe and Finn can get the job done. ]

However you choose to do it—you can gloat on your escape, you can slip and let him see what he believes is General Organa on this ship with you—but if you do, you’d ensure that this works. Save Corellia another battle.

[ She’s seen the dark corners of his mind, knows what it feels like to have Snoke inhabit them, to have to push back against it just to self-actualize in making a decision, but that only makes her more assured that this is the right choice, more hopeful that he will see it through. ]

It would be dangerous. You’d be giving him a way in and throwing their full efforts into pursuing us.

[ She won’t pretend it’s not, won’t do him the disservice of pretending she can manipulate him to ignore those facts and feels no need to manipulate him in the first place. But there’s optimism in the appeal her eyes make to him. ]

( He is wiping grease from his hands with a rag that is itself more grease than rag, trying to smear some of the oily blackness away with whatever amorphous blob of tan fabric he can find, when Rey comes around the corner and leans in the doorway. Her posture is all wrong, a plea bargain for nonchalance when tension spits in the air like live wires, and Kylo lets his eyes linger for a moment on the arms that she slings across her midsection, closing her off even while she tries to broach this particular topic with manipulated ease.

What she's asking him to do is a clear reflection of her own state of mind, and he finds himself more than a little annoyed by it. It's not her head that the Supreme Leader has just been forced out of. It's not her head that has served as a cradle for the cold, alien touch of Snoke's long reach all these years. Just because she walked around inside of his mind and had the Supreme Leader take a look at her and find her potential enticing does not give her the credibility required to present this to him with no alternative. Her loyalty to the Resistance and her own opinions of what she would do stamp themselves plainly in what she asks of him now, and Kylo visibly bristles at the suggestion. Not in fear or apprehension or any word that might denote trepidation at what she suggests, but in something that looks a lot like thinly veiled resentment at her perceived ignorance. )

You were so adamant about getting him out. Now you want to give him a surefire way back inside. ( Kylo crowds her, rubbing viciously at a spot of grease on the inside of his wrist until his skin is bright red with futility. He gets the sense that her plan won't work with as much ease as she's expecting it to, and the look that he levels her with says as much, though he feels the need to extrapolate in the interest of getting them on the same page. ) The amount of power that I have, what I've shown you already, you do realize that it's nothing compared to what the Supreme Leader is capable of, don't you?

( It's a rhetorical question, especially as he's well aware that she recognizes the potential risks involved in inviting Snoke back into his mind. Their truce is shaky at best, now, and he's hesitant to call it even that until he is out of immediate and personal physical danger, and he is uncertain of what will happen if he lets down the barriers that he has been maintaining since leaving the bunker and the weak fortress of their conjoined minds, wandering through Yavin IV.

He can weave a lie, though; he's sure of it. He had successfully - as far as he knew - colored his encounter with Rey on Yaga Minor to camouflage the bright splash of her existence in that memory, to water down what had transpired there and hide it from Snoke like hoarding a precious stone or metal. Kylo is confident in his ability to generate some false truth to the reality of what is really happening when the Millennium Falcon breaks atmo and slingshots into the far reaches of the galaxy, but he knows - just as he knows that Snoke's presence in his mind when he and Rey had cleaved the connection earlier in the day - that it will not be as simple as that. There is something, some hidden threat lurking in a shadow that won't be revealed until the light is shined higher. More than his own ability to craft deception in the interest of saving his own skin and the Resistance's, as a consequence, he is sure of Snoke's superiority. )

I'm not afraid of their pursuit. ( And he isn't. If she tries to suss out lies or hidden fears from him in the interest of determining whether or not he's telling the truth, that will stand out bright and constant both in his tone of voice and the underlying reality of his thoughts. ) And I have no interest in remaining on this planet while the Resistance waits to decide what it's going to do with itself should the First Order decide the weather and regrouping efforts are of no consequence. If this is the strategy that you have in mind, if this is the only strategy that General Organa can slap together, then it's the only strategy. ( He holds out the filthy rag for Rey to take, his hand and forearms still streaked up to his elbows. ) But you need to ready yourself for the consequences.

[ In a manner slow with numbness, Rey reaches up to take the rag from Kylo, not because she needs it, but because her physical presence seems useless in the bog of conflict that her mind sifts through, and anything to keep it absently distracted is welcome. She tugs at the corners of the rag, twisting it, working over his reply.

He speaks objectively, and she notices, never fully resigning himself to the task or disagreeing with it, but presenting all of his dissent as objective irrationality that threatens the plan as a whole. Kylo Ren maintains a deliberate emotional distance from the whole thing, which seems absurd to Rey who can't imagine how he could have anything but an emotional reaction to being asked to throw himself back at the feet of the master he'd betrayed, the master that she'd implicitly assured he would be protected from.

He should be angry, she decides. If he weren't being stubbornly obtuse, he would be furious, and then she wonders if it means she should be privately grateful that he is restraining it. Finn had told stories of Kylo Ren's anger, whispered among stormtroopers. If he got as angry as he deserved to get, they might not get the Falcon off the ground after all when the time came. ]

It's not the only strategy, and the General didn't come up with it. I did. [ Though it would be easy, she won't permit him to blame Leia for her own pragmatism. Rey dusts the suggestion breezily off her shoulders, straightening in the door frame as stubborn resolve draws up the length of her spine. ] Regardless of what you do, the Falcon should draw off a sufficient portion of the fleet by rumor and supposition alone. The consequences for me will be the same. [ And she's determinedly not looking forward to outrunning the whole damn First Order fleet to protect a man who tried to kill her, who killed the father figure who passed this ship down to her. ]

But you could ensure it was the whole fleet that pursued us, spare the Resistance the risk of another battle, even one easily won. [ Each battle was another opportunity for her friends to die; she would spare them it, if she could, but Kylo had no such ties. His mother, his uncle, she did not expect they meant anything to him at all. Not after what she had seen him do to his father. ] I know I can shake the fleet off our trail. Can you shake Snoke? [ She searches his expression, softening somewhat from the near-ultimatum she lays out in offering the strategy out to him as a choice that he must ultimately make for himself. Perhaps the first that (she hopes) comes with no persistent and prying telepathic influence attached. ] Do you want to find out?

( Months ago, before Starkiller, before Snoke had seen fit to burden him with the greater purpose of the completion of his training, he might have reacted accordingly. Were they alone on Yaga Minor, were their circumstances now anything but tenuous and hinging on the trip switch of their conjoined efforts, Kylo might allow the perfect retaliatory rage to course through him like a lit firework. He might let it burn him up, but he measures the control he is able to utilize over the current predicament out in doses relative to his personal successes, and only lets the slightest trickle of ire out through a pinhole, calling on control, calling on training.

It's in the interest of keeping the ship together physically as much as it is not calling unnecessary attention to their endeavors on the whole. A full scale meltdown might in turn create a blip on the radar, and while Snoke is sure to be cognizant of where his pupil is even if he cannot reach out to him directly, Kylo has no desire to unleash whatever fresh hell is waiting for him in those hidden shadows, lurking at the edges of his perception. Self-preservation keeps him objectively level, even if internally he needs to distract himself with the menial, laborious tasks required to keep Han Solo's ship in working order.

Rey corrects his assumptions regarding her plan, and Kylo basically rolls his eyes, turning halfway back around to finish sealing up the paneling in the interest of not creating a shower of sparks when the shield inevitably overloads from attack and and covers the floor in dirty electricity. When he turns back around, she has rearranged her face into something more beseeching, softening the strong angles of her jaw and cheekbones, the hollows of her eyes. It is not unlike the expressions she has drawn on him before, staring him down from the other side of an airtight sheet of glass or in the mental construct born of his own recollections of Ilum, Starkiller, and Yavin IV. )

No. ( His answer comes abruptly, instantly, eager to be spoken as soon as she poses the question. It's honest in its brashness and in conjuncture with the expression he fixes her with in turn. Part of him inherently and stubbornly wants to believe in his own ability, in his own prowess, has actual confidence that he is stronger than Snoke - Snoke, who wants him for his power; Snoke, who plucked him from infancy because of the potential that he knew he could cultivate and exploit - but hubris has left him wanting before. ) But it doesn't seem like there's much choice in the matter. ( Kylo crosses his arms over his chest, elbows sticking out at tight angles, the line of his shoulders one unbroken rod of tension. He lowers his chin to pin her in place with a dark, heavy stare. ) One leash for another.

( He doubts the credibility in drawing the First Order out of hiding by goading him into giving chase due to the Resistance leaders' presence coupled with Kylo's own, but he sees the merit in her suggestion all the same. As such, he doesn't offer her much of an opportunity to critique or concede the point of his temporary ownership, and he doesn't doubt her piloting skills to her face. She'd obviously been able to escape the First Order on Jakku with FN-2187 and the droid in tow, and she's flown the Falcon all these months without scuttling it on an asteroid, so it seems a moot point. The fabric of the lie is more imperative than her navigational ability. )

How do you feel about the illusion of captivity? ( A plan begins to weave itself into the tapestry of his thoughts, imagining himself bound and at the mercy of the Resistance, trapped not unlike the way that he was previously. It's a pitiful reach out to bite at the hand that has fed him, and he knows that whatever deception he crafts will have to be carefully constructed so as not to affront his pride in a way that the Supreme Leader would see as suspect, but Kylo is confident in his ability to do that much. ) General Organa and Luke Skywalker escorting a prisoner, a son and nephew, back to a Resistance base. With you. It's a legitimate assumption to make.

( It would prove tempting, but not tempting enough for Snoke to leave his seat in any capacity. He would never stoop so low when he has Hux and Phasma available. )

There's always a choice.

[ She steps in closer as if to try to impose her will on him by the force of her presence, but only serves to dwarf herself in proximity to him, glowering up through dark lashes. It almost feels as though she can't bring herself to let it go because her restlessness demands a fight still, that it hasn't been satiated by the way they have orbited around each other without colliding since emerging from the dark shroud of his mind. Her molars grind. ]

You're not a luggabeast, and I won't be your master.

[ She doesn't want that responsibility, truthfully, but more to the point, she wouldn't be freeing him if she were only trading him into Resistance service. Her own ethics resist the notion, a visceral distaste that comes from being indentured into servitude on Jakku for more than a decade. They'd both had their fair share of leashes for one lifetime.

For that reason, she won't evaluate his suggestion: not yet. Until they get through this disagreement, there is no place further to go. The hiss of engines starts, though the shields remain down, telling her that Chewie is in the cockpit unable to bring them up himself even with his extensive reach. The weightless sensation of take-off jostles their feet slightly, but though Rey sways, she does not falter to catch herself. ]

As soon as we are free of the First Order's fleet, if you so wish it, you're welcome to go wherever in this galaxy you want. I'll send you with one of the escape pods. Resistance fighters don't blindly follow orders: they follow them because they believe it's the right thing to do, and they trust that the General knows the best way to do it.

[ So that helps to sufficiently dig at what she wants out of this: to be trusted in her judgment the way Leia is, to be respected without being feared. She does not want him to follow out of necessity, but out of agreement—but she does want him to follow. ]

That's a nice thought.

( Rey might harbor that illusion for herself, but Kylo Ren holds no such faith in her illustrious and wonderful leaders. He's a criminal. He's murdered countless people and ordered the execution of many, many more. He struck down Han Solo when the smuggler was offering him a way out, a way back, and tortured Poe Dameron and kidnapped Rey. He would never bet money on the Resistance letting him walk away, let alone his own freedom, so while Rey might believe in the validity of what she offers him, Kylo knows that it's a reward with no actual reward attached. His reward will be leaving Corellian airspace alive and free to decide what he wants to do with the key that has been given to him so long as it lies in tandem with what the Resistance expects of him. It's either that or execution, he assumes, regardless of the political sway that General Organa and Luke Skywalker might be able to conjure between them. )

But that's all it is, Rey. A nice thought.

( The truth remains that he also has nowhere else to go. It isn't as if he can steal away in an escape pod and crash on some rock somewhere in an attempt to make an honest living of it. The First Order won't take him back as things stand, and the other Knights are sure to be scouring the galaxy for any trace of his presence in a collective effort to bring their master under the hands of the Supreme Leader. Realization blooms within him at the finality of the situation like a sick flower, and Kylo understands in that moment that it is the cold wash of comprehension that he has been circling since he took his first voluntary steps out of the command shuttle and into the Resistance camp.

This, of all places in the galaxy, is the only real place that he has left. )

I've made a choice. ( He says it as his stomach drops with the inevitability of their take off, and all around him the Millennium Falcon comes to life in a way that no ship has since he was a gangly, awkward-looking child. There is no going back now. ) I would have left long ago if I hadn't.

[ The dismissal, sharp and abrupt as it is, fractures something in her chest—optimism flags and she drops her shoulders, hands hanging loose at her sides. Though she flounders for a reply, a defense, she finds herself crashing uselessly against his shoreline, lapping at unchanging rock faces.

To tell him that she never meant to do this to him, to entrap him in a gilded cage apart from the one he'd spent a lifetime in, seems insulting to voice, but the sentiment carries through in her gaze, the way her eyes soften and her brows knit together. ]

It'll do. You have everything you need to construct it in your memories. [ His initial confinement, the pallid expressions of Luke and Leia as they saw him, the stubborn guard duty she kept outside his airlock.

Chagrined, she drops her gaze and turns away, stepping just outside to move herself out of the way of the doorframe and permit him the freedom of movement around the ship, at least. There is nothing more she can do for him then, and all they can hope is that when he sets his lure, Snoke will bite, and Kylo won't betray them. ]

Do what you have to. I'll keep us in the air.

( He waits until her footsteps have disappeared down the hallway, splaying one palm against the lurching, metallic skeleton of the ship as it hurtles itself through tree and cloud on its way to kiss atmo goodbye and break into the cold, unflinching silence of space. Alone in this portion of the freighter, the cresting reality of the situation is able to press down on him on all sides, and with Rey deposed to deal with the navigational controls, prepping the ship and her own ability to outmaneuver the First Order fleet that waits for them at the other end of their controlled ascent, Kylo allows the growing nausea of what he's done on Corellia to buckle and blindside him. It's been kept at the edges of his perception since he woke on the command shuttle, intensified following the sever in the Force that he had felt when he clipped Snoke sloppily from his own mind, and it leaves his mouth thick with saliva and the taste of bile as he sets his mind to the task of what it is he has to do.

What waits for him on the other side of this endeavor is a region of reality as unexplored as the Unknown Regions, pockets of deep space that crush gravity and turn energy back in on itself. Kylo can't search his own feelings to determine whether or not the decision that he makes is the correct one, but he knows ultimately that it is the only one. Much as the choices he had made to deliver him to the First Order had been choices born of his own desperation and beliefs, he knows now that every move that he makes is a step that will determine the course of his path and how rocky or smooth the terrain is. What waits at the end is a mystery, although the fleeting images that he has seen of Snoke's demise color his perceptions with the conjoined red and blues of plasma swinging in vicious, tandem streaks.

It's impossible to find a spot on the ship that does not remind him in so many ways of its previous owner, though Kylo avoids heading in the direction of the cockpit more than anything. He finds himself in the galley, settling onto a low bench opposite the counter and heating units designed to function as a stove top. The banality of the environment strikes him as ironic, given the task that he is charged with carrying out, but there's little time to reconsider or weight his options in light of their climbing altitude. His fingers curl into fists where his hands bracket the slope of his knees, and Kylo leans forward to brace his forearms on his thighs, waiting for the nausea to abate before grinding his molars together and turning the questing lens of his gaze inward.

Snoke is waiting for him like a cloud of poison gas when the walls come down.

Kylo Ren drops to his knees in the projected auditorium of his own mind, rough stone biting his skin to bloody as he hits the ground and bows his head, showing lines of bone and muscle and thin skin under the tangle of dark hair that peeks from underneath the manipulated image of his helmet. It's an exercise in perfect deception, and as such he constructs brick by brick the walls and shields required to keep Rey from seeing should she choose to look. She can't be here, can't infect the projection, the connection, with the spray of sand and her wash of bright, warm sunshine, applied like a burn. He can only make room for the frostbitten breath of the Supreme Leader as fingers that carry the texture of dry, dead leaves ghost over the back of his neck, turning inward to bite into his skin and apply pressure to caverns of his mind behind his eyes.

Kylo Ren. His master's voice is the cold wash of a dead, salty sea in his ears and his throat, and Kylo knows better than to look up, knows better than to argue. The pressure in his cranium builds until it is unbearable pain, a sharp, white light picking the locks of his mind to reveal the severity of his betrayal. In the waking world, Kylo bites down on his cheek so sharply that blood flows into his mouth and saturates his tongue with copper. The cutlery on the galley table vibrates, whether from the impact of lift off or the sweeping current of his acute focus and rage as it ripples through the Force. Supreme Leader, he responds inside the valley in his mind, sharp stones cutting through the leather of his gloves as he falls to knees and hands underneath the onslaught of Snoke's power. Master.

It's not going to work. He feels it in his bones, up and down the tight muscles of his arms, his attention drawn and quartered down so many different paths. The weight of his betrayal is so heavy between them, the channel thrown open to let Snoke flood into Kylo's consciousness like a battering ram. Even if the connection has been broken, Snoke is still supreme for a reason, and his power is consuming in its totality, so much that Kylo finds himself unable to even look up under the weight of Snoke's punishment, filtered across time and space and star systems bursting with life. His rage is precise, a perfect beam of focused disappointment filled with a cleansing fire that neither Skywalker nor Organa could ever hope to posses. It licks underneath Kylo's ribs and burns him from the inside out as Snoke shoves into his head to see what he sees through the projected, false image that he is shown.

Kylo Ren lies with more conviction than he ever has.

He is bound at the hands and flanked on either side by Rey and Skywalker, the General across from him as she confers with Ematt while staring at the black slash of her son's figure as it sits incapacitated aboard the ship that once belonged to his father. Gone are the streaks of grease that stain his skin and force his hair to stand on end; gone is the plain black flightsuit, swallowed instead by the surcoat and armor that he wears underneath the damaged - torn and dirty - shroud of his cloak, hood drawn to hide the resemblance that he bears to Han Solo; gone, too, is the welcome weight of the saber that hangs presently at his hip, carried instead in Rey's curious hands as she ghosts her thumb over the ignition switch, watching him from the rise of Luke Skywalker's shoulder as they, too, speak quietly about what should be done with him. He projects his captivity with shame and fury, pouring every ounce of himself into it in order to make it all the more likely that he reality he creates is an actuality.

Your failure has been spectacular, boy, but the sacrificial slaughter that you offer may redeem your weaknesses yet, Snoke says to him, and Kylo buckles under the Supreme Leader's discipline. The heating unit explodes. )

[ Rey settles restlessly into her seat beside Chewie, her hands itching with the stress of inaction as she thinks of the battle that will be waged in the hold while she steadies the ship to navigate it through whatever barricade waits for them beyond. The atmosphere burns up around them, barraging the shields, and she keeps an eye on the starboard side sensors while the ship lurches out of Corellia’s gravity.

Two Resurgent-class Star Destroyers waited for them, ready to snipe the Resistance’s fleet with poised turbo lasers. At the sight of the Falcon breaking atmo, TIE fighters pour out of the belly of the ship. A green flash of a turbo laser fire narrowly misses the Falcon by the skin of its nose, a warning flashing on the display screen that monitors the shield resilience. The ship swings around like an attraction at the fair, jostling its passengers while it dodges further fire.

Rey navigates the Falcon like she was born to, ducking quickly behind Gus Talon to seek cover fire, but the pursuing TIE fighters force her to plunge near the moon’s surface, following the grooves and craters that pepper dusty settlements there. Beside her, Chewie lowers the power while they drop flush enough to the moon’s surface to be protected from radar by its magnetic fields, and the great white freighter clings near the surface as it shuffles into deeper corners of space.

Once they’re free of active fire, her mind reaches out and comes up against a smooth wall of glossy black metal rebuffing her from sensing Kylo. He is aboard, she knows, and through the Force she can sense his unease, but the details beyond the ghosts of impressions elude her. Pink knuckles turn pale as she grips the yoke tighter, pushing the nose of the Falcon upward and outward into space. ]

Alright, Chewie. [ She nods, eyes fixed out the front window. ] I’m going to bring us to light speed. Bring down any that follow.

[ On radar, she can see one of the Star Destroyers—a large, angry blip too close for comfort—steer wide and turn to pursue them once, indubitably, stormtroopers report back from their zippy fighters. With a series of adjustments to the instrument panel, Rey listens as the ship begins to tremble and bob, white starlight peeling at the edges of their vision. The Falcon lurches and jumps in the same moment that everything goes to hell.

A series of alarms sound and flash on the console and in the cockpit above the pilot and copilot’s seats. On her feet in an instant, Rey searches out the codes, reading symbols and then barreling, anger burning her heels, out of the cockpit. With a disgruntled howl, Chewie turns his attention more fully to their set course, which carries them far from Corellia to the Outer Rim. ]

What the hell is going on?! [ She wheels through the circular corridor full of secret smuggling compartments in search of Kylo Ren and, with him, answers. The heating system is blown—completely, judging by what she finds when she stalls in front of its control panel. Even with the warmth provided by the Quadex core running the hyperdrive wouldn’t keep them from freezing to death in the depths of space if they didn’t get it back online in some capacity. No life support systems in the world could keep oxygen breathable at subzero temperatures.

Immediately, Rey pulls the faceplate off the control panel and sets to work evaluating the extent of the damage, which looks irreparable due to the apparent explosion that set off within, leaving charred tubing, melted wires, and jagged holes in the metal casing. Panic and anger color her presence as she forces it out again at the slick metal wall that blocks her from Kylo Ren’s mind, and she grits her teeth as she tries this time to bulldoze straight through it. ]

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literally have no idea what i am talking about la la la mechanics

Me always with Star Wars worldbuilding tbh so I feel you. Consumes EU at a glacial pace.

hahahha likewise. i just have multiple wookiepedia tabs open constantly

sobs i'm so bad at retaining reference material, but i just read 5 pages about sabacc and i'm like y

i am so proud of you. i never retain any information. i literally looked up 'glass' the other day

ok but like how much sleep had you gotten i feel like that is an important fact to consider

i mean probably like 7 which is 7 more than i usually get

oh .............. look i tried to excuse it idk what you want from me

and then i slept for like nine hours anyway it's fine you are forgiven

After this tag I know way too much about start wars spacecraft