Bonded

Chapter 41: Unforgiven

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Kylo Ren wrestles with a deep-seated need.

Kylo grips the edges of the washing station, retching. His throat's on fire, bile stinging and burning its way up.

He gasps for air the moment the retching stops, metallic bitterness searing his tongue. He spits, weak and shaking, barely holding himself up. He feels his legs start give out, and he lets himself crumple to the floor, sweaty hands slipping from the washing station. He crawls to the wall, then turns to slump against it, legs splayed in front of him.

He wraps his arms across his chest, trying to control the shaking. He's only wearing a thin pair of pants, fabric drenched and sticking to his skin. Cold sweat drips from his hair, his face, and he starts to lift a palm to wipe his eyes but stops, thinking better of it.

No. He needs to keep his eyes open at all costs.

He fixes on a red light across the room, soft flashing from the console above his desk.

But it's no use. Even with his eyes open, the images play like a holo in his mind.

Kylo sees him crouching, that twinkling mischief as he brings his hand from behind his back. He's trying not to smile but he can't help it, his lips turning up in spite of himself. He uncurls his fingers slowly.

There's a small stone in the center of his palm. It looks black at first, but when it catches the light, there's a sheen to it.

"Go on." He nods to the stone. "Take it."

Small fingers reach out, lifting it with a thumb and index finger. It's a deep, silvery purple, yet somehow transparent, a starry, night sky inside of it...

"That's the rarest substance in the galaxy, kid. Even rarer than kyber." There's pride in his voice. "Most don't even get so see starstone, much less have a piece of their own. It's precious..." He leans closer. "Like you."

Kylo exhales weakly. He brings a hand to his cheek, wiping away wetness.

He hates that one. Hates it.

Out of all the versions of the nightmare, that's the one he dreads the most. There's something about his father's voice at the end, so quiet and tender, that makes the shift to Starkiller all the more cutting.

Kylo shivers, staring intently at the red light, trying to force his mind elsewhere.

He thinks about Sylas, pictures his boyish face. He thinks about how much he's learning, growing, the leader he could become someday. For a split second, he swells with pride.

But the feeling just brings the memory back, the look in his father's eyes when he gave him the starstone.

Kylo sucks in a breath.

He shifts to his cadets now, running through them one by one, saying their names in his head. He thinks about the way he feels when he trains with them, the sense of loyalty and brotherhood, the way they look to him for guidance, for confidence.

But that just brings his father's face back, the joy in his heart when he told him he was precious.

Kylo growls, sitting up angrily.

There must be something he can think about that won't lead back to the nightmare.

His mind drifts to its default, the place it always goes when he's not forcing it elsewhere.

Rey.

Kylo slumps against the wall.

Normally, it's such a comfort to think of her, to rebuild her features, from the curve of her chin to the softness in her eyes.