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Interrogation	By : fairglenn Category: Star Wars (All) > Het - Male/Female Views: 36598 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Interrogation
- 2-Escape
- 3-Punishment
- 4-Submission
- 5-Home
- 6-Resistance
- 7-Broken
- 8-Dependency
- 9-Shift
- 10-Victory
- 11-Reconnect
- 12-Struggle
- 13-Turn
- 14-Forever
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Chapter 2
Rey doesn’t move for a long time. Her hands eventually fall into her lap, her head hung over them as her sobs cease and restart at least twice. She hates herself for what she’s done; for how he’s made her feel. He humiliated her…defeated her with ease, all the while letting her think she had a chance. In the end he’d taken what he wanted with such force she was sure he’d planned it perfectly. The worst part wasn’t even that he had won, but that she’d enjoyed some parts of it. Her cheeks flush with the memory of her desire for him. He’d made her want him…that couldn’t count as true desire. She took a deep breath and reassured herself that she’d been vulnerable; that he’d had so much more practice than her. He was at least a decade her senior, and had probably done this a thousand times with other women. Rey’s thoughts wander down a dangerous path of “what if,” the pit of her stomach flipping in response. How many other women could there be?
Shuddering with revulsion at her own depravity, she slowly unfolds herself and crawls to the wall. She pulls herself to a seated position against it, leaning her head back to stare up at the ceiling. She hardly notices the loose hair falling around her shoulders as her thoughts wander to Finn, and she’s once more wracked with guilt and heartache that threaten to crush her. She’d never had a human friend on Jakku; Finn had been her first. Her eyes close as she hopes against hope he’d escaped to the Outer Rim as he’d planned. Why hadn’t she gone with him when the chance had presented itself? She bites her lip and stifles another sob against her feelings of regret.
Enough is enough, she decides. She has no choice but to recover; to survive. It’s what she’s always done, and she’d made it this far. She takes a shuddering breath and begins to assess her situation. If she can’t protect the Resistance anymore, she can at least get home to Jakku. She needs an escape plan. Her emotions take the back burner as her eyes rove around the room, finding only what appears to be a small washroom, a locked exit, and the disgusting metal table in front of her.
Hopping to her feet she heads for the locked exit, examining the type of lock mechanism used. Her brow furrows in disappointment as she finds it has no inside handle of any kind. She traces her fingers carefully along the outline of the door looking for any sort of hitch, but finds none. Damn it - she would have to wait for someone to open the door and then fight her way out. “That could be problematic,” she says quietly to herself.
Suddenly she’s a scavenger again, twisting around to scan her surroundings not for an exit, but for whatever she can use as a weapon. Her gaze falls on the only thing in the room…the table. She inhales sharply just looking at it, a new wave of humiliation crashing through her. Her jaw clenches and she decides right then and there she hates him. Unable to subdue her thoughts, she wonders why he stopped when he did. Was the entire encounter a calculated fraud? She shakes her head rapidly, trying to dispel herself of such thoughts. Why did she care if he really wanted her or not? She hadn’t really wanted him…she shakes her head again and steels her mind against the unpleasant feelings she’s experiencing. “Stop being ridiculous,” she mutters.
She marches forward toward the table, ducking underneath it looking for removable parts. She sees potential in a long hydraulic, and unwraps her armband to use as a sort of vice grip. The underside is rubber, meant exactly for twisting off loosely enough screwed parts. They were very handy for her line of work on Jakku. After a few tries she is breathless and her hands rubbed raw. “Fuck!” She grits out, rolling out from under the table. There’s just no way she can loosen the part without better tools.
As a new thought comes to mind, her pupils dilate and her face lights up – the washroom! She bolts to an upright position and runs for the sink, praying the piping is metal. She rips the cabinetry open and nearly squeals with delight at the sight of shiny, metal pipes. She wraps the rubber underside of her armband around the top iron pluming collar, straining with all she has. The first collar unhinges with no problem, filling her with elation. She rapidly untwists it with her fingers, unhinging the top of the pipe. She then moves to the bottom collar and her heart sinks into her stomach when she’s met with a much stronger resistance. She grunts into the work of breaking the collar free, failing one…two…three times before taking a break, panting heavily. She can’t fail. Determination rebounding, she goes back in and twists with both hands as hard as she can at the collar. She’s groaning with effort when her hands suddenly slip, and the sharp rim of the collar slices through her rubber armband and into her hand. She hisses and shakes it hand out, small droplets of blood flying to the floor. Panic starts to set in as she readjusts the rubber along the rim. Her lips set in a hard line, and she gives it all she has once again despite the stinging in her palm. Without warning the collar snaps free, jerking her wrists painfully. Ecstatic, she untwists it the rest of the way so quickly that she barely notices the discomfort.
The U-shaped pipe falls loose into her hands, and she stares at the weapon substitute as though it’s the best thing she’s ever seen. Her head snaps up toward the front door of her cell, and she scrambles into position alongside the seam. Now she just needs someone to open the door…someone other than him.
At first the time seems to fly by, her adrenaline surging through her veins. She runs through every possibility, preparing herself for the worst. What if it is him that comes through the door? Easy. She can’t win a physical fight against a man who can control her body with his thoughts, so she’ll have to drop the weapon and burst into hysterical tears. What would he expect after what he’s done to her? She wouldn’t even have to fake the hysteria. With any luck however, it’ll be a run of the mill storm trooper and she’ll have them on their back and out cold before anyone suspects something’s amiss.
Time begins to slow the longer she stands there waiting, and she even lowers her weapon once or twice. Maybe this isn’t the right plan, she thinks. Even with all her years of hard living and self-defense behind her, she feels completely unprepared for this situation. She begins shifting uncomfortably in place, her body aching from the last few hours. She’s almost caught off guard when the door finally clicks and begins to rise upward into the ceiling.
The weapon is held steadily over her shoulder, all sound save for that of her own breathing disappearing around her. She doesn’t hesitate as a storm trooper with a tray full of food enters the cell, smashing the dislocated pipe into the face of his mask. The white-clad body flies backward, and the trooper struggles to stand under the weight of the unexpected blow. Rey kicks his helmet off, smashing the pipe into the ridgeline of the exposed man’s chin, effectively knocking him unconscious. She ducks to pull the blaster from his holster, her eyes taking in the hallway ahead of her.
Once the blaster is free, she springs into motion and darts out of the cell. Unbelievably no one is coming from either direction, and she gratuitously sprints down the hall to her right. For a good stretch of what feels like forever she encounters no one, which is better luck than she’d hoped for, considering there is nowhere to hide. She utilizes the time to familiarize herself with the First Order blaster, which seems easy enough. Eventually two storm troopers come into view, and she makes the split-second decision to take aim and fire before they can fire at her first. An animalistic sound escapes her lips as she tries to ignore the unsavory fact she very likely just killed two people. She pivots around a corner, into what looks like an exposed spacecraft hangar; an invisible and penetrable shield all that’s between her and the open universe. Here she finds a tiny alcove to sink into, watching and watching intently as several First Order members traverse the enclosure.
After a few moments pass she sees an opening straight to an undocked TIE fighter and bolts toward it without a second thought, making it over halfway before anyone notices her.
“Hey!” Shouts a storm trooper, “Stop! STOP HER!”
She sprints so fast she’s in danger of tripping over her own feet, and her nervous excitement surges as she reaches the hatch of the spacecraft. Her free hand finds purchase on the entryway and she propels herself forward into the craft. Her tiny body falls perfectly into the seat and she reaches for the controls, dropping the blaster in her lap. She barely flips a few switches before she’s unexpectedly ripped from the seat back out into the hanger, the blaster falling to the floor of the TIE fighter. Her body is hurled to the floor and her face twists into a silent scream as the wind is completely knocked out of her from the force of her body slamming onto the ground. She struggles to catch her breath as she looks up into a red-faced, helmetless storm trooper. Oh God, it’s the one she attacked in her cell – how had he recovered so quickly? He’d no doubt seen the two bodies she’d left behind her as well, if the unmitigated fury etched into his features indicated anything.
“It appears as though Ren has gravely under-punished his prisoner,” the trooper spits in her direction, his expression twisting into that of utmost hatred.
Rey manages to pull herself to her knees, still struggling to regain the ability to breathe. That hope is lost as the steel toe of his boot connects with her side, sending her sprawling back to her face on the ground. She begins to heave, holding her arm up toward him in a sign of defeat. He signals for two nearby storm troopers to come forward, excitedly saying, “Get her up.”
They swiftly move forward to carry out his bidding, and she chokes on the agony it causes her to be pulled upright so roughly. She is without a doubt sporting bruised ribs, and the room swims out of focus for a moment.
“Look at me,” he says, his face only inches from hers. She brings her eyes up slowly, fearfully. The silence stretches between them for several long seconds before he backhands the side of her face with lightning quick agility. Her senses explode with white hot pain and she moves her mouth to beg him to stop, only to find she is unable to form any words. All she manages is a pathetically strangled sound, the edges of her vision fading to black.
She feels sickeningly heavy, and is almost sure she’s hallucinating as a fully dressed and masked Kylo Ren steps in to block the trooper’s next blow. It feels like she’s watching the scene in slow motion as he lifts his leg and shoves his boot hard into the storm trooper’s chest, sending him sprawling across the floor. His presence is overwhelming as his had shoots out and the trooper begins gasping for air. The man struggles against the invisible pressure, wriggling on the floor for minutes before falling into an unmoving heap on the ground.
Kylo turns toward Rey as the remaining storm troopers release her arms and back away, effectively dropping her to the floor. She pushes her upper body up from the floor, shuddering breaths falling from her lips.
“And you,” he says, his voice deepened by the mask. “You have now killed three of my men.”
Her eyes rise pleadingly to his mask, tears threatening to spill over any second. She realizes he means to blame her for the man lying only a few feet away, and she considers her next words carefully. Too overwhelmed to argue, her expression turns to anguish and she says, “I didn’t-” her voice breaks and she chokes on her sentence, unable to finish.
“Hm. I was feeling very generous in response to the information you so easily provided this afternoon,” he says calmly, “and had intended to send you to your home planet at the soonest opportunity.” A sob finally breaks free from her as he crouches to her level and continues in an eerily pleasant tone, “But now…now you will pay for what you’ve done.”
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Interrogation