"Don't," Kylo warns without having any solid idea what he means by it— but he doesn't push this echo of Ronan away. He can't. If anything, his hold is surer, his grip tighter, more insistent.

What is he going to do with this thing? He can almost hear the question trembling through its thoughts. What is he going to do with me. What can I do to be enough. He feels sick with a blend of feelings never designed to fit against each other.

I'm not going to hurt you, he wants to say. Shout. Lie. And it would be a lie, no matter how much he tried to bend it otherwise. He's already hurt him. His very existence is hurt. Dread and fear. That's what Kylo has given him with this unplanned gift of life.

"What do you want me to do," he asks suddenly, twisting to face him. His eyes are sharp and focused, but it's like they don't want to be. "Tell me what you want, Ronan. Right now."