CHAPTER FIVE.
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I loved you at your darkest.

ROMANS 5:8
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               DAYS PASS.

     ONE, TWO—

     The sun rises and crests the sky then dips beneath the hills. All the while, their negotiations continue, though Kylo Ren is not present. He roams the palace gardens or sulks in the silence of his private chambers.

     Three, four—

     He makes the First Order leave on the fifth day, giving no explanation other than an angry frown. "Just this once, trust me," he snarls and Hux, having never seen Kylo Ren this troubled, commands their officers back to Starkiller Base.

     Back in the silence of the Finalizer, he can't help but remember.

     He remembers the first time he saw Val on Ynara, the way she'd looked at him. He hadn't known back then.

He remembers seeing her through the Force for the first time, in the solace of the palace. He remembers their Bond awakening, strenghtening once more. He remembers feeling the rush of relief. He remembers himself coming to her in the gardens, sitting with her, speaking to her. He remembers her empty smiles.

He remembers the hammering of his heart.

     He remembers other things too: he remembers the panic after the destruction of the Temple.

     He remembers running away, feet hitting the dirt, not fast enough, not far enough. He remembers losing Tara in the Force, knowing she was struggling, and hoping that she'd live and die at the same time. He remembers their Bond finally breaking, remembers realising she was actually, truly dead, that after all this time he had been the one to kill her. He remembers the way she looked at him in the end, telling him without words what she was thinking. He remembers leaving her to die.

And he remembers even further back: all his years with Snoke, with Luke, with his parents.

He remembers pain, and how effective it was at teaching him. He remembers craving it, chasing after it, needing it to be stronger, to be better.

He remembers his father's eyes, and how sad they were as he left to train with Luke. He remembers his mother, calling for him, and the feeling of being split in two when he felt her leave.

He's no stranger to pain, to death, to suffering. But he doesn't have a memory like this. He doesn't remember anything being as painful as this.

Tara, he thinks.

Everything aches and hurts right now, but nothing compares to the way his chest is being crushed as he remembers her.

Tara, he thinks, eyes burning, throat clogging up, tears choking him.

She's gone.

     Yet no matter what Val thinks, she is still Tara and Tara is still her. Her heart is still good and genuine, and it pains him. Good, genuine hearts do not survive the reign of the First Order, but he can't lose her again—not truly.

Kylo dreams of her for days on end after—behind thick lashes, memories bathed in a summer sun dance so freely, so real, he forgets about all the heavy horror set in the lifelines of his hands. He forgets he lives in the eternal winter of space, imprisoned on a glimmering war machine coasting through the stars. During his time away from her, Kylo finds a target to harass. General Hux has never hated him more and nearly quits twice hadn't it been for Phasma to calm down the situation later in the day.

     Phasma had reported a few of her findings on the Ynaran monarch during the week to Kylo. All around her reporting was fairly standard. He was relieved for most of it, nothing anti-First Order had been found. Though there is a rumour of her supporting the Resistance, there is no proof—and no proof means he will be able to protect her, for now.

"Nightmares?" It isn't so much a question as Hux tries to understand his exeptionally bad mood better as they rummage through field reports and discussing tactics together. "I'll never understand your Force sensitivity, but if it's affecting you—"

"It's not." Kylo snaps, before exhaling deeply through his nostrils.

     Hux shrugs. "Well, you need to fix it." Kylo glares at him. "It's your responsibility. If I could fix it, I would."

     Kylo only pouts.

     "Figure it out. The Supreme Leader is not going to be happy when he sees right through you. He's going to feel whatever it is that's going through that bucket of yours at night."

     Ren smirks. "And you say that you don't understand the Force."

Hux rolls his eyes. "I understand only enough to get me by when reprimanding you. Which hardly ever seems to work. You do what you want anyway."

     "You're learning."

"And you're impossible," Hux retorts, only to have Kylo snort, unable to hide his mocking grin.

     Back in his quarters there is one last memory, that gnaws at him. His parents had visited the Temple once a year and Kylo remembers the one time only Leia had come, shortly after his parents had seperated for good. They had watched Tara spar with Luke and his mother had looked at him with that knowing smile of hers. "She could kick your ass," she had murmured, sounding almost proud of him.

He had rolled his eyes, while fighting a blush. "She has," he'd answered fondly.

His mother had laughed at that. "The course of love never runs smooth, son. But in the end, it always finds a way."

Kylo feels like he's being torn in half, seams of his heart's sinews being lacerated with no delicate hand. It's self punishment, sending him into a deep, deep, deep spiral of self-hatred that tastes just like her.

     He thought he knew her. He thought her gentle. Maybe once she was. But now time has proven him wrong, and he knows he has failed her.