When the troopers throw her into the cold, dark room, Rey falls to her knees, barely catching herself on her palms before she rolls to the side. She lands, hard, on her shoulder, wincing, looking up just as the doorway seals shut behind her. Blocking out the last sliver of light.
Rey can handle pain, she thinks, crawling over to the side of the room, leaning her back against the wall. She knows pain, embraces it like a lover, the times it’s gnawed at her from the inside, burnt hands on metal in the sun, the sting of sand in her eyes. Rey closes her eyes, tries to breathe, to steady herself. There’s that familiar, calming presence that washes over her in the dark—Rey likes to pretend that it’s her mother, the steady hands and warm, gentle touch, the comforting smile. It will be all right.
Suddenly there’s a voice in the darkness—a noise. Rey springs into wakefulness, all senses alert at the low, pained noise.
“Who’s there?” She calls.
The shape she mistook for a lump of blankets in the corner moves, and Rey realizes it’s a man, laying on his side. She draws her knees up to her chest, fearful and uncertain; why would they have put her in here with someone else? Are their prisons really so full with spies and traitors that she has to share space?
The man groans again, and pushes himself up to sitting, back against the wall, posture mirroring hers. Rey’s eyes have adjusted to the darkness, but she doesn’t get more than the general shape of him, shade and shadow. He seems to be human, male, with curling hair and a torn jacket. She strains to tell what the mark of something on his face is, before realizing with a start that it must be blood.
“Hey.” He says.
“Hello.”
“You know, the accommodations here leave something to be desired.” The man says, a lightness in his tone that betrays the pain he must be feeling. “I’m thinking of leaving a complaint with management.”
Despite herself, Rey smiles at this. That sense, that strange other-feeling she sometimes has, tells her that this man is no threat.
“I’d have to agree with you.” She says.
The man groans as he touches his arm, his chest, his leg. He seems to be feeling wounds, or bruises. Rey wonders if he, too, has felt the brunt of the First Order’s particular brand of hospitality.
“I’m Poe, by the way.” The man says, once he’s found, or not found, whatever injuries he’s been looking for. “Poe Dameron.”
“I’m Rey.” She answers. “Just Rey.”
He gives her a little salute in the darkness. “Pleasure.”
She’s about to answer, when the door slides open again, light spilling into the room. It’s bright, and it takes a moment before her eyes adjust to it, but when she does, she sees him standing there—the dark-robed man, her captor, her torturer. And Poe, he’s more wounded than she, but he moves quicker than a sandstorm, rushes up from his spot by the wall to place himself between her and the man, Kylo Ren. Somehow she knows, this was how Poe got his wounds, too. Rey shivers, and looks up into the black and silver mask.
“How touching.” The creature says.
Rey can hear the smirk in his voice, even though she can’t see his face. She’s glad, she thinks, that he’s put the mask back on. She doesn’t want to see him, those dark eyes that cut like glass. They cut straight through her, make her feel naked, touched by something sick and diseased.
It would be a mercy, she thinks, to leave that one out in the desert.
Kylo Ren laughs. “You are delightfully imaginative.”
Rey flinches, feeling the intrusion of him into her mind, like some kind of twisting worm just under her skin. “Stop, get out of my head…”
“Leave her alone!” Poe says, angling his body in front of hers, as if that makes a difference.
Kylo Ren relents, but he doesn’t leave. He gestures with a hand, and the door shuts behind him, the overhead lights coming up, shining down on them. He crosses the room, and sits down on the bench along the far wall.
“I’ve checked out your stories, and it’s been determined that neither of you are of any possible value.” He growls through the mask. “You, Pilot, have already given us what we need. We are already en route to the Resistance base, and I thank you so very much for your cooperation.”
Rey can almost feel the anger rising up in Poe. She lifts a hand, places it on his shoulder. “No…”
Kylo Ren tilts his head at them, curiously. “How charming. You win her loyalty so easily, when it took me hours to even attempt it.”
“Remember that thing about asking nicely?” Poe spits out. “Maybe you should—“
His voice cuts out, crushed to nothing more than a sputtering gasp. Kylo Ren has his gloved hand raised, squeezing; Rey can feel it, and it stings and burns, making tears well in her eyes. “Stop it!”
He does. Poe falls to the floor, gasping, a rasp of breath on every inhale.
“Very well.” Their captor says. “You may earn your freedom. Or you may remain here, and be executed. The decision is yours.”
“How?” Poe asks, before Rey can even get the question out.
“Take her.”
Poe looks up at him, not understanding. “Take her… where?”
Rey doesn’t understand at all; there’s no moon or safe world where she could ever get away from this monster’s touch on her skin. But compared to dying, she’ll take her chances.
“Take her here, Commander.” Kylo Ren laughs mockingly. “Put on a good show, and I’ll reward you both with your freedom.”
Poe straightens up, and Rey has to lean to the side to see her captor, his broad back covering her almost completely from his gaze. “You can’t ask me to do that.”
“Oh I’m offering you the choice.” The hooded figure says, quite calmly. “You take her, or I will. I promise you, you will not enjoy watching if I do the job. I may not be able to hold fast on my promise to spare your lives, either. She does seem quite the untried thing. I might shock her.”
Poe turns around to face her, wincing from the pain in his chest. “Rey… I… “
Her brows narrow in confusion and mounting panic. “I don’t understand. Why does he want this?”
Poe looks grief-stricken at the expression on the young woman’s face. “We—do you want to live? Do you want to get out of here?”
Rey nods, and feels the tears start to form in her eyes. “Yes. But, I’ve… I’ve never—“
“Fuck.” Poe turns back to face Kylo Ren. “You want to sit here and watch, is that what gets you going?”
“I don’t have all day, Commander.” Their captor sounds almost bored. “I do have an Empire to run, you know.”
“All right.” Poe says. And then, more gently, to Rey: “All right. Do you understand, what he’s asking? I’ll make it gentle, I swear to you. I won’t hurt you.”
Fill: Poe/Rey, forced by Kylo Ren 1/?
Rey can handle pain, she thinks, crawling over to the side of the room, leaning her back against the wall. She knows pain, embraces it like a lover, the times it’s gnawed at her from the inside, burnt hands on metal in the sun, the sting of sand in her eyes. Rey closes her eyes, tries to breathe, to steady herself. There’s that familiar, calming presence that washes over her in the dark—Rey likes to pretend that it’s her mother, the steady hands and warm, gentle touch, the comforting smile. It will be all right.
Suddenly there’s a voice in the darkness—a noise. Rey springs into wakefulness, all senses alert at the low, pained noise.
“Who’s there?” She calls.
The shape she mistook for a lump of blankets in the corner moves, and Rey realizes it’s a man, laying on his side. She draws her knees up to her chest, fearful and uncertain; why would they have put her in here with someone else? Are their prisons really so full with spies and traitors that she has to share space?
The man groans again, and pushes himself up to sitting, back against the wall, posture mirroring hers. Rey’s eyes have adjusted to the darkness, but she doesn’t get more than the general shape of him, shade and shadow. He seems to be human, male, with curling hair and a torn jacket. She strains to tell what the mark of something on his face is, before realizing with a start that it must be blood.
“Hey.” He says.
“Hello.”
“You know, the accommodations here leave something to be desired.” The man says, a lightness in his tone that betrays the pain he must be feeling. “I’m thinking of leaving a complaint with management.”
Despite herself, Rey smiles at this. That sense, that strange other-feeling she sometimes has, tells her that this man is no threat.
“I’d have to agree with you.” She says.
The man groans as he touches his arm, his chest, his leg. He seems to be feeling wounds, or bruises. Rey wonders if he, too, has felt the brunt of the First Order’s particular brand of hospitality.
“I’m Poe, by the way.” The man says, once he’s found, or not found, whatever injuries he’s been looking for. “Poe Dameron.”
“I’m Rey.” She answers. “Just Rey.”
He gives her a little salute in the darkness. “Pleasure.”
She’s about to answer, when the door slides open again, light spilling into the room. It’s bright, and it takes a moment before her eyes adjust to it, but when she does, she sees him standing there—the dark-robed man, her captor, her torturer. And Poe, he’s more wounded than she, but he moves quicker than a sandstorm, rushes up from his spot by the wall to place himself between her and the man, Kylo Ren. Somehow she knows, this was how Poe got his wounds, too. Rey shivers, and looks up into the black and silver mask.
“How touching.” The creature says.
Rey can hear the smirk in his voice, even though she can’t see his face. She’s glad, she thinks, that he’s put the mask back on. She doesn’t want to see him, those dark eyes that cut like glass. They cut straight through her, make her feel naked, touched by something sick and diseased.
It would be a mercy, she thinks, to leave that one out in the desert.
Kylo Ren laughs. “You are delightfully imaginative.”
Rey flinches, feeling the intrusion of him into her mind, like some kind of twisting worm just under her skin. “Stop, get out of my head…”
“Leave her alone!” Poe says, angling his body in front of hers, as if that makes a difference.
Kylo Ren relents, but he doesn’t leave. He gestures with a hand, and the door shuts behind him, the overhead lights coming up, shining down on them. He crosses the room, and sits down on the bench along the far wall.
“I’ve checked out your stories, and it’s been determined that neither of you are of any possible value.” He growls through the mask. “You, Pilot, have already given us what we need. We are already en route to the Resistance base, and I thank you so very much for your cooperation.”
Rey can almost feel the anger rising up in Poe. She lifts a hand, places it on his shoulder. “No…”
Kylo Ren tilts his head at them, curiously. “How charming. You win her loyalty so easily, when it took me hours to even attempt it.”
“Remember that thing about asking nicely?” Poe spits out. “Maybe you should—“
His voice cuts out, crushed to nothing more than a sputtering gasp. Kylo Ren has his gloved hand raised, squeezing; Rey can feel it, and it stings and burns, making tears well in her eyes. “Stop it!”
He does. Poe falls to the floor, gasping, a rasp of breath on every inhale.
“Very well.” Their captor says. “You may earn your freedom. Or you may remain here, and be executed. The decision is yours.”
“How?” Poe asks, before Rey can even get the question out.
“Take her.”
Poe looks up at him, not understanding. “Take her… where?”
Rey doesn’t understand at all; there’s no moon or safe world where she could ever get away from this monster’s touch on her skin. But compared to dying, she’ll take her chances.
“Take her here, Commander.” Kylo Ren laughs mockingly. “Put on a good show, and I’ll reward you both with your freedom.”
Poe straightens up, and Rey has to lean to the side to see her captor, his broad back covering her almost completely from his gaze. “You can’t ask me to do that.”
“Oh I’m offering you the choice.” The hooded figure says, quite calmly. “You take her, or I will. I promise you, you will not enjoy watching if I do the job. I may not be able to hold fast on my promise to spare your lives, either. She does seem quite the untried thing. I might shock her.”
Poe turns around to face her, wincing from the pain in his chest. “Rey… I… “
Her brows narrow in confusion and mounting panic. “I don’t understand. Why does he want this?”
Poe looks grief-stricken at the expression on the young woman’s face. “We—do you want to live? Do you want to get out of here?”
Rey nods, and feels the tears start to form in her eyes. “Yes. But, I’ve… I’ve never—“
“Fuck.” Poe turns back to face Kylo Ren. “You want to sit here and watch, is that what gets you going?”
“I don’t have all day, Commander.” Their captor sounds almost bored. “I do have an Empire to run, you know.”
“All right.” Poe says. And then, more gently, to Rey: “All right. Do you understand, what he’s asking? I’ll make it gentle, I swear to you. I won’t hurt you.”
Rey bites her lip, and nods. “I'm not afraid.”