The newly appointed Supreme Leader Kylo Ren stalked the dark halls of the First Order ship, trying so, so hard not to think. He din't want to think, he didn't want to dwell. Instead, he savored each fearful glance, each jolt of a passing trooper. How he wished to have a mask again, to hide his face. He couldn't bear the exposure anymore. His legs were cramping, his lungs burning as he stormed through the ship. He didn't want this. He didn't want to feel like this.

He stopped, and looked at a nearby control panel. Was it really that late? It was early morning now, and exhaustion was tugging at his eyelids, kicking his legs forward to his room. It was the only place he could let his guard down. Rushing in, and sliding against the closed door, he released a breath he hadn't realized he's been holding. He didn't even turn on the light.

She was everywhere. Flashes of her tunic rounding corners, strands of her hair brushing his cheek, her small warm hands colliding with his. Rey. Her name was everywhere. It was in quick glances at name tags, in the reports, pushing to roll off an officer's tongue. Rey. Rey. Rey.

Maker she was so soft. Everything about her. Her hair, her skin, her eyes. Such a stark contrast to her words. Her words cut through his bones as if they weren't even there. And through it, he would be left empty but craving more.

It wouldn't stop. Rubbing his eyes harshly, he stood, and his body protested. He hated her. He hated her. Why was she tormenting him like this? How could she?! His fist collided with a wall, sending metal and glass flying. Again, and again, he hit the durasteel, blood seeping through his torn glove. A roar escaped his lungs as he beat his hand against anything he could find, a light, a desk, anything, anything. He couldn't stop.

The pain rushed through his arm, his very bones aching and his knuckles burning. Good. He deserved it. He was a monster.

You're a monster.

The words hurt when she says them. Why should it hurt? Why does everything have to hurt? Why does everything have to fail?

Finally, his body gave way, his knees crumpling, and he fell to the floor. He could just lie there until he died. It could be so easy, one flick of his saber, then it…she, would stop tormenting him, haunting his every move.

A sound erupted from his throat, a pitiful sob. He shouldn't feel like this. He's the Supreme Leader. He's better than this.

You're a monster.

You're nothing.

But not to me.

Gods, it hurt. It hurt too much. Her eyes were the worst part. A glowing hazel, burning through him. And to see her shut him out, close the hatch on him…

"When are you coming back, daddy?" He asked, tears welling in his eyes. Han stood above him, with a look of shame on his gruff features. He opened his mouth to say something, but didn't. He turned around, slinging a bag on his shoulder. He slowly ascended into the Millenium Falcon. "Daddy!" Ben cried out, reaching for him.

"It's okay, sweetie," Leia said, lifting his young body into her arms, his head on her shoulder, her lips against his forehead. "He just needs some time. He'll be back," she choked out.

She carried him away, and he saw his father close the hatch. A sob rang out, tears running down his plump cheeks.

"Daddy, no!"

He was trembling now, guilt tightening in him, a cold hand clutching his heart. He clawed at his chest futilely, trying to ease the pain. He stared at his gloved hands, and tore them off frantically. These were the hands that killed him. Killed so many. He could almost feel the blood staining his hands. He punched the floor now, the polished glass breaking with each blow. He was strangled by his shuddering sobs, and the blood was running down his fingers. Good. He was a monster. He deserves-

"Ben?"

It's not real. It's not real, it was never real. A panic crept though him, its source unknown. He continued the assault on his hands, his pounding on the floor, jolting his weak body. Too weak, too weak. He was roaring in fury now.

"Ben!" It was louder this time. A hand clutched his wrist. A small, warm hand. He looked at its owner, and yanked his hand away, backing away frantically. He managed to stand unsteadily.

"You!" He pointed accusingly, his voice laced with loathing. She stood before him, a testament of his weakness. He wiped away the tears falling down his face, smearing his lips with his own blood. "Get the fuck out! You desert rat! Get the hell away from me!" He screamed. The look in her eyes was breaking him in two. He couldn't break, not now, no, no, not now.

"Ben…" Rey whispered, her hair messy, her eyes tired. "Please…let me help you." She cautiously approached him, eyeing him in fear and sympathy. He couldn't move. He was frozen.

"This is your fault!" He roared. The words spilled out. He couldn't hold it in anymore. "This is your damn fault! This, this FUCKING bond, everything you've done to me. You're breaking me wide open! Making me think there was something there, then ripping it all away! And leaving me alone with this, this, FUCKING regret! I'm done with this! I can't do this anymore!"

"I'm so sorry…I wasn't ready," her voice was achingly soft. "You're not alone in this, Ben-"

"I'm sure you fucking are, sweetheart!" He snapped, an edge to his voice. His breath hitched in his throat. Sweetheart.

Sweetheart.

No.

Not now. Not in front of her.

"Sweetheart?!" Leia scolded, point a finger at his father. "If you hadn't fucked me sideways in that Ewok hut, we wouldn't be here! You couldn't keep it in your pants!"

"My fault?!" Han exclaimed with a false look of shock. "He gets this from you, you know, this goddamn FORCE thing. How are you going to deal with this?!"

"Me?! No, WE are going to deal with this. You're as much a part of this as HE is."

The yelling escalated, and Ben watched helplessly from the hall, frozen. He had just moved a toy X-Wing without touching it. It wasn't a big deal, was it? It was something beautiful, something magical. But not to them. Why were they so upset? From then on it was his word, Han's word. A bitter sound, one of snark and contempt. Sweetheart.

Sweetheart.

He was on the ground again, shaking. Arms were wrapping around him. He was crying pathetically, sobbing about Han, about Leia, about everything. God, he felt so fucking weak. They sat there for a while, the only sounds were their breaths.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered as she kissed his forehead. "I'm so sorry about everything. You don't deserve this."

He couldn't speak. Each word fell silent in his mouth. Something bloomed in his chest as he held her tighter. It felt right. He had been dreading seeing her again, but now that she was here, it was her absence he dreaded. Tears fell from her lashes, mixing with is own.

"Me too," he whispered. "I'm sorry…about everything. Han…you. All I've done is hurt. I'm…I'm a monster."

"…but not to me" she replied, stroking his wet cheek, tilting his face towards her. He was frozen, caught up in the golden blaze of her eyes and the softness of her breath against his lips. "You're a man, a man who hasn't always done the right thing, but you can change. You are changing. You're changing everything. You're changing me," she whispered. He tenderly covered her hand with his own, as they wept together.

"Come on," she said, helping him up. "We should clean up your hands."

He looked down at them, covered in blood and beneath them, the shattered crater of the floor and a dark, sticky puddle of his lifeforce. Something crept through the bond. She had been scared half to death seeing him like this. She…cared. She led him by the forearm into the nearby refresher, and turned on the bright light. He was finally able to see her properly. There were tears on her cheeks, bags under her eyes and a heavy tiredness in her small smile. Turning on the water, she cleaned his wounds, and observed the slowly forming bruises. He could only stand and watch this tender act she was performing. The stinging disinfectant wiped through, the bandages wrapped around him, and he barely noticed. He couldn't stop looking at her.

"All done," she proclaimed quietly. He looked down and saw that his hands were now wrapped in gauze. He flexed his shaking fingers, wincing. A look of worry passed through her eyes at his pained expression. A silence fell between them.

Her hot breath on his chest, the way her eyes danced across his features, it was too much. A heat crept through the bond. Not of hate, or battle, but something so, so soft. He lurched, pressing his trembling lips against hers. He could taste his blood.

She pulled pack in surprise after a moment, and her small hands rested where his neck and shoulders met. A puzzling look was in her eyes, and something else, an electric hunger that passed between them. She returned the kiss with a quick peck that he grabbed at needily, holding her head in place, opening her mouth with his tongue. They groaned in unison, slamming their hot bodies together. Her hands tangled in his hair, she pulled away hesitantly.

"You…you need to rest," she whispered, her lips hairs away from his. His lips felt cold without the contact of hers. He almost whimpered at the loss. Instead, in a daze, he nodded, and she led him to the bed in the next room. She rid him of his shirt, wanting to feel his warm chest, and hoping it would be more comfortable for him. He sat on the edge of the bed, and she helped take off his boots.

He could only stare in wonder at the beautiful, caring creature above him. He leaned forward, wrapping his bare arms around her soft form. His body was wracked with small sobs, but he had run out of tears. He hesitantly lay down in the dark sheets, his hands grazing hers before she pulled away. She joined him in the bed, curling up against his large body under the sheets. Neither of them said a word.

"Thank you," he whispered, breaking the silence. She replied with a tender kiss over his heart, before resting her small, warm fingers against his chest, and closed her eyes. And they slowly fell asleep, stroking each other's skin softly, so, so softly.