Chapter Text
"Hide under the bed," Lor San Tekka urgently told you.
You nodded, feeling your heart beating like a frightened bird in the cage of your ribs, and wrapped the loose jacket around your shoulders. The First Order was descending upon the village, and there was nowhere to run.
He held up the corner of the blanket to allow you easier access to the space under the platform of his humble bed. You scooted under to the wall and pressed your back again the cool adobe. The blanket flopped back and obscured most of your vision and threw the space into a deeper darkness.
Poe Dameron had already left to get to his X-wing Starfighter by the time you saw the Order's ships closing in and rushed to Tekka's. You had stayed clear of Tekka's home while the pilot was there. There were certain things you knew you shouldn't know. Tekka told you it was safer if you weren't there, and you believed him.
Tekka knew more about the galaxy than you ever would. He told you stories of the Empire and the Force and the Jedi. He told you about Luke Skywalker. It all sounded like myth, but you knew the stories were true. Lor San Tekka had never lied to you.
When you were a girl, he asked if you could feel the Force. You couldn't, of course. You were too young and too ignorant and more interested in learning about the Jedi than actually becoming one. You scoffed at someone like you becoming a Force user now. You were just a weird, mundane girl in a backwater hole of a planet.
You were shaken out of your memories when the blaster fire began. There was screaming and the scrabbling of feet in the sand. You could hear the crackle of stormtrooper comms. You pushed further back in the dark sanctuary of the bed.
A hush suddenly fell over the village and you strained to hear anything. Was it over? Had the Order gotten what it wanted? You had a gnawing feeling it was only beginning.
The whoosh of energy--you couldn't identify the noise, but you knew it wasn't good--pierced the air. There was a collective horrified gasp and more scrabbling and then more blaster fire. Something had happened, something terrible. Someone's death had triggered it all. Suddenly, there were screams and controlled violent blasters, and you covered your mouth to muffle your sob. The village was dead. Everyone you knew was dead. Lor San Tekka was gone. You felt it like a punch to the chest.
You told yourself if you just stayed quiet, no one would know you were there.
There were stormtroopers everywhere. They were ransacking the village, burning the evidence of their crimes. There was a huge, deafening explosion, and you couldn't stop the tears now. You were alone with Order 'troopers swarming all around you. You prayed to the Maker to protect you because you didn't even have a blaster of your own.
The beaded curtains that served as Tekka's front door rattled, and you swore whoever they were could hear your heartbeat.
"Search it," a filtered male voice ordered.
There were three people in Tekka's home, riffling through his belongings. You didn't know how you knew that, but you trusted your instincts. You pressed your face to the ground to see black boots slowly pace near you. That was no 'trooper, you thought. You knew they were looking for whatever Dameron had been given. It was the only explanation.
Dameron was probably long gone, hopefully.
The bed you were under was jerked away to be flung mattress-side to the wall. You were exposed and you fumbled to get to your feet. If you were to die, you would be doing it standing. You weren't afraid of death and you would greet it head-on.
The owner of the black boots was definitely no stormtrooper, you assessed. The person was towering, clad completely in black, and masked. The only shine came from the lines of chrome around the narrow visor. The person was like a walking void, a black hole, sucking up all the light.
Against your will, your body froze like a statue. You tried to move, tried to run, but to no avail. The person walked forward as you struggled and brought one hand up between you. Your struggles stopped when you felt invaded, chased within your own head. You howled in your mind and pushed against the intruder. The black-hole of a person came closer and touched your temple.
The invasion felt worse than ever. You couldn't breathe. You couldn't move. You heard things--arguing, the cold voice of someone telling you that you could be powerful, the screams of the dead, the fervent wish to speak to someone who was never there. They never answered your cries. You loudly gasped as a last, single tear rolled down your cheek. There was too much in your mind and it felt like your head was about to explode.
The darkness of the visor became your sole focus to separate from the pain. You were staring into it, and it stared back into you. The person behind the mask was hollow and hungry and so angry. You knew what they were, and they were no Jedi. They were what Tekka had told you about--a dark Force user.
Dark like the distance between the stars.
Their name echoed within you, bouncing off the perimeters of your mind. Run Ren Ren run Ren REN REN REN KYLO REN RUN.
You shrieked at the night sky above, "Kylo Ren!"
His gentle, leather-clad touch travelled down from your temple to your cheek. His thumb stroked your cheekbone. He was going to take your head now. He was going to stab you through with his lightsaber. He was going to burn you alive and keep you with the others.
"Sir?" a stormtrooper asked from your right.
Ren was silent for too long, and the 'troopers shifted uncomfortably.
'You're mine now,' he thought at you. His real voice was so different than the one which came through his helmet. It was soft like suede. It was warm like terra cotta left out in the sun.
You sobbed and fought against his hold. You were no one's. You were Tekka's disciple in name only. You went where you pleased when you pleased. Since your parents' and sister's death, you were beholden to no one. You were untamed, unbroken--some even called you a little wild.
You managed to wiggle away from his obscene gentleness, but your feet were planted to the ground as if you grew up through the very sand. The stormtroopers came near to subdue you as you struggled and tried to keep your balance, but Ren held out a hand to stop them. That same hand wrapped around your arm as the hand at your cheek gripped your chin.
'Sleep,' you heard and the world went blank.
-
You came to in a bright room. It was clean and white and shiny. You were a sand-covered aberration in such a sterile environment. There were voices murmuring amongst themselves around you. You tried to sit up, but found yourself strapped to whatever you were laying on.
"Shit, how the hell is she awake?"
There were hands on your shoulders, pushing you down. You knew they meant you no good. You kicked against your restraints and screamed for blood, for freedom, for revenge. The small metal cart nearest you rattled strangely. On top, the instruments laying on the white fabric vibrated as though in an earthquake. You tried to scoot away to help your eyes focus on the bizarre happenings.
A pinch at the fold of your elbow made you snarl and try to pull away. You looked down to see a person dressed in white pull a half-full syringe out of your arm. The liquid inside was a sickly, pearlescent blue.
"No, no," you said. "Take me back. I don't know anythuh..." Your mouth wouldn't finish the thought. You wanted to say that you didn't know anything. You had seen nothing.
You wanted to ask where your clothes were because you were wearing a palest of gray med gowns. There was a neat little row of white ties going up the gown on the lefthand side. You really didn't think gray was your color. You wanted to ask for a gown in your favorite color.
But your mouth didn't want to obey. You frowned and put your head back on the decidedly comfortable pillow. You'd ask someone about the gown when your mouth came back online.
The person with the syringe put a little bandage on the puncture wound. "I don't know how she metabolized that so quickly," they said.
"Just keep her quiet and calm until Reconditioning calls for her," someone replied but you didn't see them. You couldn't seem to turn your head on the pillow anymore.
Syringe person said, "What the hell was Ren thinking, bringing another rebel onboard?"
"Maybe she can fill in where that pilot can't."
You stared up at the blurry ceiling. It was too close. It felt threatening. It was looming. It was a bad ceiling. Its mother was probably very disappointed with it.
'You're a naughty ceiling,' you mentally accuse it. 'I don't like you.'
You heard laughter, but no one around you was talking anymore.
'I don't like you, either,' you thought at the laugh. 'Whoever the fuck you are.'
'Go to sleep,' someone tenderly replied.
You knew that voice. How did you know that voice? Did all ceilings have such nice, deep voices? Wait. You did know that voice. It had told you to sleep before. You had been enslaved by that voice. You were here because of that voice. You needed to get out of here.
Your body felt too weak to yank at the cuffs around your wrists and ankles. You sobbed and tried anyway. No, no, no, nonononono...
"Dammit! Hold her!"
You knew that voice. You hated that voice.
"Kylo Ren!" you wailed with all the fire you could muster and then promptly blacked out.