By the time you arrived at your assignment, Dash was already skulking around the shuttle, conducting what you could only define as his own sloppy, unofficial inspection. You watched him, arms crossed, while he slunk from the ramp to the landing gear, running his fingers over the durasteel--as if he'd gather evidence of neglect or incompetence just by examining a veil of space dirt. You cleared your throat, and he flinched, spinning to face you.

"Oh, uh!" He straightened his back and dusted his hands like there wasn't a flustered flush creeping onto his cheeks. "Just, uh, you know. Normal pre-inspection inspection."

"Pre-inspection inspection?" you said, moving toward him. Every step was slow and painful--but you couldn't start limping right now. "New procedure to me, sir."

Dash glanced at the floor, audibly cursing himself before throwing his hands up. "Well, I was just, you know. Just trying to make sure that everything was looking good."

Frustrated heat prickled your neck. "You really don't believe that I know what I'm doing, do you?"

"Uh, no, no, of course I--"

"Is it because I'm young?"

"No--"

"Because I'm a woman?"

"No! I just..." Groaning, he shook his head, making his way back to the ramp. "Do you wanna get started on this pre-flight inspection, or what?"

You blinked. "Pre-flight inspection? I literally just placed the work order for the engine yesterday."

He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, and a team came through a few hours after the end of your shift and completed the order. Apparently the shuttle's got somewhere to go today."

"Oh." You ignored the needles in your heart. "Didn't know." Sighing, you waved him on. "Well, let's get started, then."

You waited for Dash to ascend the ramp before taking steps of your own. The amount of pain emanating from below your waist was hobbling, to the say the least. To say the most: it felt like you'd been fucked in the ass while getting a lightsaber stuffed in your cunt. There wasn't anything else you could think to compare it to.

Trudging up the ramp, you strangled the irritating nag in your chest. You hadn't expected Kylo to be there when you woke up (and he hadn't been), nor did you expect him to keep you abreast of his obligations. Yet there was still something that bugged you about the fact that you'd been nestled in his arms only hours ago--but were the last to find out he was leaving. What was reasonable to expect, at this point? Hey, honey, I'm heading out on the shuttle for a few weeks. Be a good little slut while I'm gone?

No, that was wrong. He'd ask you to be a good girl, not a good slut.

You shook your head. There was work to do.

On the shuttle, Dash was fumbling with one of the consoles in the cockpit, turning to you when you crossed the threshold. He looked like he'd just been caught with his hand in the sweets dispenser, and threw his hands behind his back in a bizarre attempt to appear innocent. You sighed.

"Are we going to spend this entire training period with you checking for errors under my nose?"

He held up his palms, sitting in one of the pilot chairs. "Go ahead, please."

Rolling your eyes, you took a step into the cockpit, pointing to the panel in front of him. "Okay, so, for a pre-flight inspection--"

"You don't need to sit down for this?"

The blood in your veins was beginning to bubble with irritation. "No," you replied. "I don't need to sit down." You left out that sitting was near-impossible for you at the moment. "Anyway. A pre-flight inspection--"

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

You nearly convulsed with confusion, arm dropping to your side while your mouth hung open. "I'm--excuse me?"

Dash shrugged. "A boyfriend. You know. Do you have one? Like, are you dating anyone or--"

"I know what a fucking boyfriend is, Damarcus," you spat. "What I don't know is why you, my boss, are asking me that question."

"Oh." He frowned. "Why? Is that not cool? Like, is that not a thing that you can do?"

You gazed at him, blinking in disbelief, deciding between whether to call him a fucking idiot or a fucking moron--but resolved to eschew both in hopes he was just pathetically ignorant. "Um. No. It's not a thing you can do."

"Huh." He looked to the floor, then back at you, studying you for a moment as you stood, frozen. "So, that's a no, then? No boyfriend?"

"None of your business, dude." More importantly, you weren't even sure if you knew the answer to that question. You took careful steps to the dashboard and pointed again to the panel. "Pre-flight inspection. First step. Run the on-board diagnostics." When he didn't move, you urged him on with a wave of your hand. "I'm not just telling you for fun."

Dash sighed, accessing the user interface with little difficulty--which surprised you. The Command Shuttle's interface was unique--a bit counter-intuitive, perhaps, to anyone who'd spent their career working on TIE fighters. Once he'd finished, he turned to you, and you imagined he couldn't look more bored if he tried.

"That was... fast," you said, tempering any hint of praise in your voice.

Shrugging, he leaned back in his chair. "That's why they call me Master Dash. Ha-haaa." He shot you a broad smile and a wink.

You cocked a brow. "I thought they called you Double-Dee."

"Oh, uh, well--" He folded his arms over his chest. "Like I said, no one really calls me anything yet, I'm just trying to, y'know, get something started."

The panel blinked, signaling the completion of the diagnostics, and you were thankful for the excuse to ignore his comment while you watched him scroll through the report. "I guess Sam and Minks were right when they said you knew your stuff."

His eyes widened, and he looked at you. "Sam and Minks?"

Was he forgetful, or just oblivious? "Uh, Samuel Foster and Minks Loren? The other two people under your charge in this area?"

"Oh," he said, brow furrowing in thought. "Yeah, I remember them. Well, I remember that girl, mostly. Minks? She's real cute."

Bile burbled in your esophagus, and you stared, hoping the shock that had registered on your face would be enough to shut him up. But, no, of course it wasn't.

"What about her? Does she have a boyfriend? Is it that guy? They seemed to be pretty close--"

"Maybe! Don't know! None of your business!"

You were certain if you had to hear one more thing about great Sam and Minks got along you'd end up punching them both in the face for their irritatingly obvious chemistry. Oh, yeah, sure, fine--you could be happy for your friends, but it was far easier to be bitter about the fact that they were able to flirt all over everything all the time--meanwhile, you'd just asked yourself if it was appropriate for you to expect Kylo Ren totalk to you.

"Anyway," you said, "what do the diagnostics say?"

Dash sucked his teeth. "Nothing. Everything's good. Normal."

"Okay, good," you said. "So then what we do next is we'll head back to the engines to double-check them before doing a test-start of all of the systems." Not wanting to move first, you nodded toward the rear of the ship. "Come on."

He stood, shaking his head. "No, no, ladies first."

You rolled your eyes. "No, really. You first."

"Aren't you supposed to be showing me?" he said. Dark impatience edged his voice. "Seriously. You first."

Against all of your bravest inclinations, your heart sunk into your stomach, and you nodded. "Okay, then."

Drawing in a long breath through your nose, you took one step--then another--then another, recognizing that your current attempt to hide your limp was far more conspicuous than the limp itself. And yet, though you were moving at a Hutt's pace, Dash remained behind, his gaze sticking to you like slime. You could feel it oozing over your body, slower than sludge, and your pulse shot into space.

"What's with your legs?" came the inevitable question, ringing out in the stark silence of the ship.

You shrugged, as if you hadn't made sure you weren't still dripping with the Commander's cum before leaving his quarters this morning. "Cramps. You know how it is."

"Not really." Footsteps behind you--slow, methodical. He was still examining you. "You sure it's just cramps?"

The acid in your stomach churned up to the back of your throat. "Yup." You'd made it to the access panel--you leaned against it, staring at him. "Just cramps. For sure."

"Oh," he said. You hadn't realized how tall he really was until he was towering over you in the enclosed corner of the engine access. "'Cause it kind of looks like something else."

Heat flushed your neck and chest, raising the hair on your arms. You decided the best course of action was to ignore that he'd even said that, in hopes he'd take the hint, and instead move onto the next steps of the inspection. "So now that we're here--"

"You sure you don't have a boyfriend?" His eyes roamed your figure again, and his proximity set off panic alarms in your skull.

"Uh..."

Fear was a thick knot lodged in your throat. It was taking all of your control to focus on the panel, to ignore the dizzy anxiety spinning inside of your head. Maybe you should tell him you did have a boyfriend so he'd back off. But then, maybe if you told him that, he'd wind up reporting it to Hux, somehow. And Hux might assume it was Kylo Ren. Even though Kylo Ren wasn't your boyfriend, anyway. You didn't even know whathe was, really, like, was he your lover, was he your fuckbuddy, was he--wait, what were you thinking about?

"No," you said, "I don't. I don't have a boyfriend, okay." You took another breath to steady your trembling fingers, wondering how much trouble you'd get in if you just... decided to leave for the rest of the day. As you opened the panel, you continued. "Anyway, what you'll do--"

"You still wouldn't go out with me, though, right?"

"Will you stop interrupting me, man!" you growled, leering at him. "No, I still wouldn't go out with you. Can we just finish this inspection?"

"Because I'm your boss--right? That's what you said?" Dash's face was stone-serious, and it chilled you to the marrow. He wasn't going to let this go.

You frowned. "Why does it even matter? No means no, dude."

His shoulders fell, and he chewed his cheek as he averted his gaze. There was something racing through his mind, behind his eyes--but whatever it was, he wasn't saying it. You seemed to have shut him down, finally, but it did nothing to assuage the creep of black dread over your intestines. Having yet another superior officer showing sexual interest in you was not a coveted theme for your life.

You wanted to ask him how much he knew about you--but you didn't want to give him reason to investigate, either. Your instinct was to tell Sam or Minks--but the mere thought brought a wash of shame over you, especially considering Minks' comment the previous day. And telling any other higher-up was out of the question. This was far too frequent of an occurrence, for you, and you worried stirring up trouble would bring more questions your way. Were you doing something to ask for this, to encourage this treatment? You didn't think you were, but doubt had already burrowed into the center of your brain. You just needed to handle this on your own.

"All you need to do is come back here and make sure the ion generators are clean," you said. "Then we head back up front and manually ensure all systems are operational." Another steadying breath, and you started to waddle toward the cockpit.

To your relief, Dash spent the rest of the training period in silence, only nodding and following your instructions. You were thankful that he was a quick learner and needed little guidance--even still, teaching him delayed the inspection's completion by about an hour. When you'd finished, you were searching for some excuse to leave. You'd grown tired of standing--but couldn't bring yourself to sit, either. Even less appealing was the thought of lying in your cot.

But since Kylo was apparently leaving, you supposed you had no choice.

As if he'd read your mind, Dash said, "Wonder where Commander Ren is." He looked at the chronometer on the center console. "Departure's scheduled to be in thirty minutes."

He'd practically handed you that excuse you'd been looking for. "Really?" you asked. "Well, then, I better get going." You'd already started stumbling toward the ramp. "Maybe I'll run into Commander Ren on the way, or something." You're not supposed to be around him at all. "But probably not. I mean. I never see him." You cleared your throat. "See you, uh, whenever. Bye."

The speed with which you staggered down the ramp made you feel optimistic about any future involving arthritis. You hoped that when you'd reached a 50-foot radius from the shuttle, the weight of your anxiety would have evaporated--but instead, it was replaced with a hovering apprehension regarding your return. The thought of working with Dash again tied your intestines into knots. He seemed harmless enough, but you worried that if he did find out your history, he'd make a natural assumption.

As you made your way out of the bay, you mind flipped through its options, finding itself trapped. Any way you split it, reporting the issue to someone would end with the target on you--a target you didn't need, considering you'd already piled on about 500 targets to your back as it was. If Hux were to even catch a whiff of it, he'd probably use it as an excuse to boot you out of an airlock, just to pluck you from his side. Your stomach gurgled in resignation--you'd dug yourself a hole so deep, you were convinced that no one would believe you.

But there was one person who had no choice but to believe you. Hearing your thoughts made it impossible to feel otherwise. You just hoped he hadn't already left for the shuttle--maybe if he knew what Dash was saying, he could find some inconspicuous way to fix it. Or he'd kill him. You know. Whatever.

The pressure of your finger on the pad to Kylo Ren's quarters was enough to open the hatch--either he was still there, or he'd managed to surreptitiously change the permissions to his security systems. Not that you knew how they worked, anyway. Maybe he'd just left it unlocked.

But if he was still around, he hadn't heard you come in. The hallway remained empty. The doors remained silent. You wobbled to his bedroom--your legs were just about ready to give out from the amount of walking--but he wasn't there, either. Nor in the refresher. Scanning the room, you went to call out his name when you heard it. A voice, lost in the tall ceilings and durasteel walls, rumbling like a distant peal of thunder in your ears.

That was Kylo--it had to be--but you didn't think you'd ever heard him speak so many words in succession. Not around you, anyways. The nag in your chest was back--here was your chance to know him, to start a path of intimacy, to maybe--you didn't know--define whatever bizarre relationship you had with him. A little bit of eavesdropping was worth that, surely.

Inching closer, the source of his voice appeared to be behind the door--the door that led to that helmet. That helmet for which you still held no answers. Your curiosity grew claws, but you kept your mind blank, choosing instead to sidle up to the door and lean your ear toward it. Sound still muffled, but intelligible, now, even more coherent when you held your breath.

"I don't understand. It should be easier, now. Clearer. I shouldn't... I shouldn't feel this way anymore." His frustration was radiating like flames through the hatch. "Stronger. Why can't I be stronger!" The word was punctuated by a heavy, metallic smash. "And now this girl..."

Your heart flipped. Girl? You were a girl. Was he talking about you?

"How did you do it, grandfather?"

Wait. Grandfather?

"Where did you find your power? How did you keep it?" A pause. Your sternum was getting slammed out of your chest. "She is getting stronger. I can sense it. Her power..." Another pause. "She's only a scavenger!" Another smash, then something crashing onto the floor, tremors echoing to your toes.

The hope inside of you wilted. He was talking about that girl you'd seen on Starkiller. He could sense her? What did that--you stopped yourself. There were too many thoughts running through your mind and if you didn't wipe them, you were sure he'd hear you. But you were thinking you needed to leave, anyway--the dark fog settling in the pit of your stomach was telling you that you'd made a mistake.

"Guide me, grandfather," said Kylo. His voice hung feathersoft in the air. "I cannot falter when I face her again."

Again? Yes, you were definite, now--you'd made a mistake. The ache of agitation had grown far too loud. Instead of getting answers, you'd only found more questions--unsettling ones. Ones you feared the answers to.

You scrambled out of his bedroom and into the hall, your whirling mind cutting a track toward the safety of your quarters. You were thankful you'd have time to rest with the shuttle gone--but even the pain between your legs was becoming secondary to the fluttering bewilderment in your chest.