A/N: Just wanted to say thank you riboflavinB2 for offering advice that helped with this chapter! I'm always open to PMs from anyone who has thoughts, advice, or theories about character motivations and how the story will unfold.

I follow Kylo Ren out of the room. No sooner does the door creak closed behind us, does Hux pop up like a ginger surprise.

"General Hux." Kylo Ren is so broad and tall, I have to peek out from behind his shoulder.

Hux's nose is almost always crinkled as if in disgust but, when he sees Kylo Ren, his nose straightens out. Then he looks down at me, his pupils tiny inside his electric blue irises. "I need to talk to you."

"Me?" I blurt out, confused.

"Not you," Hux spits, then looks at Kylo Ren. "You."

"I'm heading to my chamber with my wife."

Hux's red hair seems to go prickly, like a cat that's been spooked. Other than that, he keeps himself composed. "Supreme Leader Snoke requests our presence."

Kylo Ren nods. He takes my hand and leads me ahead of Hux.

"The girl will not be necessary."

Kylo Ren keeps walking. "My wife will go where I go."

I want to turn around to see Hux's expression, but I can't resist Kylo Ren's pull. Even though I tried so hard to prepare myself for independence when I was on Jakku – I wanted my mom to know she could rely on me, that I didn't need her to provide for me – a part of me doesn't believe that I was made to be independent, or even the dominant one in a relationship. It feels kind of nice to have someone to follow, like the whirring part of my brain can finally relax.

Hux stands stiff before the massive throne. "I informed him that the girl's presence was not necessary."

Snoke's serpent eyes flicker at me. Even though he's only a holographic image, I feel like he can smell me. I will myself not to shudder.

Kylo Ren had let go of my hand as soon as we entered the room, but now he touches the back of my arm, briefly. Is he defending me? Or was the touch accidental, a result of readjusting his stance? "Supreme Leader –"

"I will send for you when I require your presence," Snoke says. Relieved to be dismissed, I go to turn around, but then Snoke adds, "Hux."

If Hux is irked, he doesn't show it. He shoots an icy glare at me before marching towards the door and exiting. I don't hear Hux's footsteps after the door seals shut, so there's no way to tell whether Hux is gone for good and the lair is soundproof, or whether he's attempting to listen through the door.

"It is true that I requested to see you and Hux," Snoke says to Kylo Ren, "but I believe in taking advantage of what lies before me." Again, his eyes flicker at me and his lips twitch. It's barely a smile, but somehow it makes his face look even uglier.

"There is talk that Audrey is with child." Snoke's smile cracks a little wider, but the shadow over his eyes darkens. "Is there reason to believe this is true?"

I want to shout, No, but hold back. A part of me suspects that keeping quiet, at least for now, is smarter.

Is it possible for something as low status as a domestic droid to have direct communication with the Supreme Leader? Unless someone working in the kitchen told Snoke. It seems bizarre for a kitchen staff member to inform the Supreme Leader about something that's essentially hearsay.

Unless Snoke demanded a report specifically on my status. But why would he ask a domestic droid or a member of the kitchen staff?

Maybe he didn't speak to anyone. He might have planted hidden microphones in Kylo Ren's bedroom.

The dusty smell of the lair wafts into my nostrils. I have to glance down to check if there are insects in the air, clinging to my clothes.

I should have let that domestic droid go to the scrap metal recycling unit.

No. I shouldn't have lied to her. This is my fault. I should have taken only the food that was offered to me. Will Kylo Ren get in trouble because of me? Will Snoke punish us – punish him, I mean – by passing me into the clutches of Hux instead?

Anyone but Hux.

I glance at Kylo Ren – his brows are furrowed and he looks like he's about to speak –

"I apologize if I have given anyone false hope," I pipe up.

I feel Kylo Ren's eyes on me. Snoke's expression doesn't change.

My heart speeds up. "With all due respect, Supreme Leader –" I decide to be respectful even though the sight of him makes my legs shake with fright and I couldn't imagine having less respect for someone so terrifying and awful. "I am wondering why you have taken such an interest in my… status."

"We would like to make your stay here more hospitable, Audrey. No doubt you have been feeling a sense of emptiness, of loneliness, since leaving your family." If his face wasn't so serious, I'd swear he was mocking me. "A child to love would give you a sense of purpose. Perhaps it would fill that great hole of despair welling inside your heart." He leans forward, eyes unblinking, like he's about to devour me.

It sounds like he's thinking of my best interests, which can't be true. But how do I tell him I don't believe a word he says without arousing his suspicions? I look to Kylo Ren, but he keeps his gaze fixed on Snoke.

Snoke notices me looking at Kylo Ren and narrows his eyes, as if daring me to ask another question. It seems as though Snoke is used to having unquestioning faith from his subjects. It doesn't seem like he gets that loyalty through love – it looks like he maintains it using fear. What is he capable of doing to people who disagree with him, who question his authority? I don't want to risk finding out. I try to maintain eye contact, to look neutral even though I'm scared of him.

Snoke changes his tune, though his voice remains cold. "You are still adjusting to our culture here. Perhaps you are not used to your superiors having expectations of you."

Kylo Ren seems to have picked up on something I haven't. "We are more than willing to adhere to your deadline, Supreme Leader, if you will grant us one."

"The deadline is not mine to impose. The universe is what informs us when our efforts have come too late. Love is like war, it is advantageous to be the first to act. I would have expected the battle to have begun on your wedding night. However, there are situations in which it is better to bide our time."

Tiny particles of stone fall from the ceiling behind him, falling against the floor like an unsteady metronome.

Snoke continues, "Perhaps, after all that waiting, you may find that you are unable to conceive. And then what shall become of you? Starkiller is not a stranger to barren young women. If you cannot produce a child, perhaps there are other men who would find Audrey quite useful. In fact, I believe General Hux is in dire need of a female concubine."

Kylo Ren's shoulders tense. He grabs my hand, as if guarding me. "Audrey will conceive my child, Supreme Leader Snoke."

No! I shiver, telling myself that Kylo Ren only wants to protect me from being given to another man – Hux specifically. He's just buying us time. He doesn't want a child, does he?

Unless the domestic droid didn't tell Snoke. Maybe she told Kylo Ren.

Part of me wants to yank my hand away from his grasp. Another part of me feels like if I let go, I'll faint.

"One year," Snoke says. "If you have not borne a child by this time in one year, we will consider other arrangements. Unless you would like to consider them now, Audrey."

I want to speak but it feels like a cold, bony finger is in the back of my throat. I know Kylo Ren isn't capable of raping me, otherwise he would've done it by now. And I can't do anything that might take me away from him – what if the next man I get passed to (I try not to think of Hux) prevents me from flying back to Jakku with him? Does Snoke even know about our deal?

A year from now feels so far away. As much as it hurts to think about this, what if Kylo Ren can't heal Mom? Then I'll be free and I won't have to worry about Snoke coercing me into having a kid.

A year is plenty of time to –

I think about my mother secretly making that deal with the Stormtroopers when I was thirteen. The one that landed me here. I hang my head. Now I understand what could have led her to make such a decision. Immediate concerns almost always win out over fears for the future.

Have faith, I hear my mother's voice, an echo from a time she wasn't talking to me, but I was listening. I will figure this out.

I can't look at Snoke's eyes anymore without feeling like insects are crawling all over me, so I turn my head to look at Kylo Ren.

He looks down at me, his gaze softening. A strange part of me feels less alone, standing before Snoke with Kylo Ren, compared to the first time I stood in this room. I want so badly for him to be a good person.

But right now, all the signs are pointing towards Kylo Ren manipulating me, through Snoke, into having his kid. I think back to Snoke's statement about Kylo Ren being the best at motivating me. Just how cunning is he?

Snoke taps his finger against his armrest, silently counting the deaths of each second.

"You were listening."

"I was waiting," Hux justifies himself to Kylo Ren. A pillar of darkness, he's leaning against the wall outside Snoke's lair.

To make myself less intimidated by Hux and the possibility of me being his sex slave if I fuck up, I tell myself he looks like a carrot wrapped in electrical tape.

Kylo Ren walks over to face him head on, his robes billowing behind him as he moves. "The intel. How did he know?"

"I know not of what you speak. Maybe next time you should be more eager to let me stay."

Kylo Ren clenches his fists. I don't want a fight, so I speak up. "Why were you waiting for us?"

Hux fixes his cool gaze on me. "I was waiting for you. I enjoy seeing how much your body trembles after meeting with Supreme –"

A bolt of red slices the air. I jump.

"Leave." Kylo Ren's lightsaber seems to growl at the same time he does. Even though he's staring at Hux, could he be talking to me? Does he want me to leave so he can rip Hux apart?

Hux glares at Kylo Ren, seeming more annoyed than anything. He turns and marches down the hallway. After he turns a corner, Kylo Ren moves as if to follow him, lightsaber still brandished.

My hands sweat. I try to keep up with his fast pace, hoping I can stop him from attacking Hux –

Kylo Ren strikes the wall, lightsaber in his right hand and his left fist flying. He keeps slashing, randomly. Tiny metal shards jump out from each fresh rip in the wall.

I flinch. I want to cover my head and run away, in case a shard lands in my eye.

Instead, I stand there, almost in awe of his rage. Is he upset because Hux insulted me? Or is he taking out days of frustration with wanting me – and not having me?

He lets out a cross between a grunt and a cry – the lightsaber deactivates and drops to the floor.

"Kylo –" I want him to turn around so I can see if any shards landed on him, but he drops to his knees and clutches his hand. I rush over and crouch beside him. His left glove is torn, revealing a shallow wound, bright red and jagged just like his weapon.

If I were a different person, maybe raised differently, I could sigh. Or even be so cruel as to laugh at him. How can I not bear to see him in pain, when he doesn't care if I get hurt?

But is that true? Force, could he really care about me?

He keeps his head bowed. He's too proud to ask for help. I pick up his 'saber and hook it back on his belt, realizing too late how close my hands are to his groin. My fingers accidentally graze his narrow waist and I almost drop the 'saber.

He's looking at my mouth in a way that suggests he hoped I didn't realize he was looking. An errant lock of black hair is in his eyes. He's panting slightly from the exertion of his outburst. His lips are full and flushed.

It hits me like a gale, how beautiful he is.

"We're leaving tonight."

His tone of voice shocks me back to reality. As I register his words, an image of my mom lying, weak, in the healer's tent, in her final days, surfaces in my mind. I wish I was there now.

I realize I'm clutching my left hand, as if his injury left a phantom on my own skin. "Are you sure you're okay to fly?"

He tries to stand up and wobbles.

I catch his hand. "You look exhausted."

'I'm fine." He flicks an errant lock of hair away from his face.

"You need your strength if you're going to heal a terminal infection. I don't want our flight to be all for nothing." I can't believe I'm arguing to spend another night on Starkiller Base. "You need to learn to take a break," I add gently, but he gives me a hardened look as if I've scolded him.

His hand goes to his belt to check if I fastened his lightsaber correctly. "Perhaps you're right. Let's go to bed." He turns to walk down the hall.

I freeze.

He looks back at me. "Not… like that." He holds out his hand. I take it and follow him so I don't get lost.

"My mom used to bandage my dad's cuts and scrapes all the time. He never got in a lightsaber fight – but this doesn't look too bad." We're sitting on the edge of his bed. Luckily there was a first aid kit in the bathroom, so I didn't have to send for the domestic droid. I'm not looking forward to facing her tomorrow. Not that I should have let myself trust her, but she was the first to see me in my wedding dress. It's weird how emotional attachments can form over small things.

He raises an eyebrow at me. His bare hand is in my lap.

"I'm trying to say I'm experienced," I conclude, inspecting the wound for any stray bits of leather or metal. The stars on his ceiling twinkle but nothing in the wound twinkles – lucky for him.

"Your father was employed in a dangerous sector?"

I start cleaning the wound with gauze dampened with saline. He hisses and turns his face away. "I thought it was his job when I was younger." I can't leave it at that, not with the way his gaze darts back to me in questioning, so I add, in one breath, "My dad was addicted to gambling. He didn't always play fair, so..." I trail off, remembering all the hollow promises my dad made about what he would buy for us when he finally won big.

I just want you to be happy, he would say to my mom. And the thing was, he really meant it.

"And your mother was okay with it?"

"She said it was something he couldn't control." He keeps looking at me, so I sigh. "I don't know, it's hard to explain." I unscrew a tube of scar-minimizing ointment and squeeze a blob onto a cotton-tipped applicator.

His right hand twitches, as if he was going to touch me but decided against it. His deep brown eyes regard my hands with amusement. "You're fastidious, Audrey."

I'm not one hundred percent sure what fastidious means, but he's smiling so I take it as a compliment. I wonder: does he know words that I don't because he has more education? Or is it because he's older? I wish I knew more about his background. "What about your parents?"

He smirks and shakes his head. "No. We're still talking about your parents. Your mother abandoned you, giving you to the First Order. But you don't seem to see it that way. You still love her."

I apply the ointment carefully to his wound. I'm still curious about him. I'll have to convince him to open up in a more indirect way. "She was trying to save my dad's life. And… give me a better one."

"Is this better?" His voice is quiet. His thick lashes shield his eyes as he looks down at his hand, the ointment glistening in the artificial starlight.

"You don't know my mom. She's practical. Well, except for choosing my dad. My parents were both kind of hopeless romantics." I guess that's where I get it from, I realize, but I don't say that. How embarrassing. "The day I left home – the night you came for me – my mom said 'love is not enough'. That's not something she would've said when my dad was alive."

"His death hardened her."

I almost forgot his ability to make me feel naked. I drop my gaze and busy myself with unwrapping a self-adhesive bandage.

He raises his unwounded hand, slowly, to my cheek. If I pull away, that might make him less likely to trust me with the details of his family history, so I force myself to stay put. The tip of his bare finger touches my earlobe. His lips part. "Let me see you, Audrey." His voice sounds far away and I'm suddenly aware of how warm the room feels…

The sunrise peeked through the window at my mom, kneeling beside my dad next to our squat kitchen table. I was supposed to be sleeping; they didn't know I was watching.

"I'm sorry, Hira." His eye was swollen, purple; Mom held a damp cloth against it.

She handed him the cloth and stood up. I couldn't tell if she was angry or not –

She turned and caught my eye before I could hide. I darted back to bed.

When she entered my small room, I could barely see her face. It was dim; I usually kept my blinds drawn to keep out as much of the hot sun as possible. I didn't know if she could see my face but I glared at her anyway.

"Your father says that's the last time he'll come home past bedtime."

Why did she want make it seem like the only reason I was upset was because he forgot to tuck me in?

Even when I was quiet, Mom could usually figure out what I was thinking. "He'll change, darling," she added quietly. Was she speaking to herself, or did she just not want Dad to overhear?

I turned onto my side. "How do you know?" I muttered.

She walked over and kissed me on the forehead. She was close enough for me to see her face in the dim light. "Because I have faith in him."

I wanted her to be angry, like me – somehow that would've felt more validating. But she just looked…

"At peace." Kylo Ren lowers his hand. My cheek feels cold; I want to grab his hand and press it back against my face.

Instead, I apply the bandage to the back of his hand. He tilts his head. "That wasn't so hard to explain after all." He looks down at the bandage, pretending to inspect my work.

He looks distant. Finally, he says, "My parents had their own agenda. I didn't fit into it. So… I made my own."

I hold my breath. My tactic of asking questions didn't work, so I stay quiet in case he has something else to say.

His brows knit together. "They were disappointed. They never cared if I was disappointed with them. But I found a way to get what they couldn't give me."

"Love?" I regret the question the second it flies out of my mouth. He glares at me like I've used a curse word. Heat floods my face.

"Power." His tone lacks the passion of his earlier statements, as if he's reading the word off someone else's script.

I hesitate. I don't want to anger him further, but – "Is that all you need?"

I can't stop looking at his beautiful face, his eyes that betray unmistakeable longing.

The last time I had an emotional conversation with a boy was last year, and I've never had a deeply emotional conversation with a man.

For the first time, I let him see the longing in my eyes too.

The muscles of his hand tense behind the bandage. His fist begins to clench – and then he hisses.

"Hold still." I place my hand over his warm, bare fingers.

He pulls his hand away. "I don't care if it scars." He scoops up the first aid kit and soiled gauze and escapes into the bathroom.

My shoulders sink. When the door shuts behind him, I head to the closet to put on a nightgown, then slip into bed.

I stay awake until he slips into bed beside me, praying the whole time that he'll start the conversation where we left off. But he is silent for what seems like an eternity.

Defeated, I succumb to shallow sleep.

His deep voice pulls me back into a semi-conscious state. "Thank you." My eyelids are heavy but I manage to open them just enough to see him lying on his back, his bare chest and shoulders exposed above the blanket, his freckles like fallen stars. His head is turned towards me and his dark curls dominate the pillow.

After my eyelids fall shut, his breaths become slow, rhythmic, as if he's fallen asleep. Then –

"How do you know if your father loved you?"

Is he restarting the conversation, or do I just want this desperately enough to dream it? I struggle to put a response together through my sleep-induced haze. "When we were all together… I don't think I really appreciated it when I was little, I just sort of took it for granted. I knew the love my parents had for each other and the love they had for me… that would never change. My mom had faith in him, and I had faith in her, so…"

"You had faith your father loved you even though he abandoned you over and over?"

My weight sinks deeper into the mattress. "Yeah."

He exhales. "I thought I could have faith in my parents."

"Are they… still together? Do they still love each other?"

He doesn't say anything.

My feet are usually cold in bed, but they feel warm tonight. "Well if they are, then… that's something to have faith in."

"My mother said she couldn't stand my father when they first met."

"My parents said it was love at first sight." I'd be able to open my eyes if his voice wasn't like a lullaby.

As I slip away from him, into a dream or nightmare I'm not sure yet, he murmurs, "Perhaps there are different paths to falling in love."