World On Fire

by conveyer_belt

Summary:

After Crait, Rey throws herself into training because she had always been good with her body, her hands. There's never been a problem she couldn't fix with a little perspiration and effort.

But people aren't machines, and she's furious with . . . him, and so she trains. And builds. And does her best to ignore the flames.

Every night. The throne room. And his voice.

“Please. . .”

Notes:

Star Wars, my one true love, has been irrevocably ruined (1. The new trilogy is based on a fundamental flaw - an incorrect and outlandish interpretation of the character of Luke Skywalker and 2. I am not a Last Jedi stan), so might as well participate. This story is nonetheless true to TFA and TLJ. Minimal purposeful experimentation with verb tense - please ignore if you don't enjoy. Thanks for stopping by! Buckle up, it's Rey's ride.

Chapter 1: Stop the Kriffing Begging

“Please.”

She jolted awake, sweating, the familiar nightmare clawing at her skin, tearing familiar words from her lips.

Every night for three months. Since Crait.

Rey had been careful. She’d barely told Leia about him. She’d been training, dying, sweating, learning from Luke and watched by Leia, falling asleep exhausted by the end of each day.

It didn’t keep the nightmares at bay (the throne room, burning, his eyes, blindly searching).

It had kept him away.

She’d resisted his pull in every way she knew how, driving herself to greater and greater heights each day, running until she was spent, drilling with her staff, using the Force to jump and soar and levitate and hurl.

Mending her lightsaber.

This was the only time she came close to meditating, when she was working on the blade. He had almost broken through her defenses at least twice, his emotions a yawning, raging mass of hurt and rage and need. She’d made her entire mind an ocean, depthless, calm, but filled with fight and waves.

Rey knew what they were saying about her. She could hear them whispering far farther than she had a right to. She heard them wondering if she had really killed Snoke, if she had some pull over the fearsome Kylo Ren. She heard them murmuring in awe as her training got more and more desperate, a grand show for no other purpose than to rid herself of him, of his touch, his voice –

“Please.”

She let out a strangled yell and got up, furious, desperate, hungry –

This was him. He had been there again.

She got up and slammed out of her quarters, pelting through their newly established base, her broken blade fixed in her mind’s eye.

She saw others, did not acknowledge them. She still heard their whispers:

“All she does is fight.”
“Rey seems unwell.”
“She’s startling.”
“She’s mad, as mad as him.”

The last one stung.

She called the lightsaber, and it came, singing in her hand.

She needed only one last mediation, one last moment with the Force. And then it would be whole.

She didn’t know if she could do it without him.

“Focus, Rey,” Luke said softly, his voice like a badly tuned frequency. “You can do this.”

He had materialized on the incline beyond the hanger, where she skidded to a stop.  “What if I am not strong enough.”

Luke chuckled. “I think that bridge disagrees with your assessment of your strength.”

She looked out over the wide fissure, beautiful in its danger, that had prevented them from expanding their base. Until she had single handedly built a bridge after a month here, sometimes people coming by and watching, the odd exclamation, other times just quiet. Scared?

Now the base was twice the size it had been, new recruits and old friends flocking to join General Organa and the woman who had killed the Supreme Leader Snoke.

Who the new Supreme Leader, Kylo Ren, was rumored to be searching for, desperately.

The new recruits told tales of the Order landing, searching, leaving. No violence, no occupation. Searching. One had seen him in the flesh, step out of his Silencer onto the earth of the planet, before declaring, “She isn’t here.” He turned, and left.

Yesterday, news had come that he had reopened the Galactic Senate, far away on Courscant.

She’d felt something, like a breath at her neck, and she had brutally slammed everything in her mind closed, opting for a freezing swim in the river below the fissure.

She refocused on Luke.

Hours later, the Force was coursing through her veins, making her calm, serene, the tether of this base, one with the Force.  The lightsaber was really singing, joining with her, the kyber crystal activating.

And then he was there.

Luke was gone.

Rey rose to her feet, the cyan blade screaming in her hand, not wanting to turn, not wanting it to be real.

“Please.”

“You can’t keep doing this,” her voice is flat, the surface of a lake. Anger leads to the dark side.

She can feel his rage, just as she had when she had tore herself from the nightmare that morning.

As she felt most mornings.

“I haven’t seen you in months,” his voice is rough and contoured with an edge she hates. “I can never see you in our dream.”

This doesn’t merit a response.

She’d been hoping it wasn’t true. She’d been hoping that he wasn’t there, that it wasn’t him, just a memory.

She’d known she was wrong, of course, but she’d been fighting to maintain denial, to become stronger, to not feel this hurt.

Apparently, he hadn't seen her struggle. “Rey. Where are you?”

What kind of question was that? She would never answer it.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

He was right behind her, she could see his shadow, she could breathe his scent, leather and oil and musk.

How badly she had wanted him.  He had been vulnerable, he had touched her.

Then he had been spewing vitriol, cloaking himself in dark energy and pushing her away. Claiming she meant something to him, but offering her no choice.

“Ever since you left me.”

You gave me no choice. She didn’t say it.

“Every night I hear you rejecting me. Every night I feel your exhaustion, your conflict, your strength, your loneliness, coursing through me like it is my own. But I can never see you, and I have never felt so cheated.”

He is hurting her. The longing in his tone, the desperation matches her own, though she has buried it deep. She wants nothing more in that moment than to look into his eyes.

The sigh was sudden and she could hear it shudder through him. “Just let me look at you. Please.”

It breaks her all over again, like it does every night. Rey risked everything for him. And then he had the audacity to suggest that he can help her, that she needs him, that this is the only way. It hurts. She wants to do it for him, but she cannot because he is the kriffing worst.

“Fine,” he breathed, rage blocking any other emotion from him. “I – ”

His presence winked out like a star in the dawning sky, and she exhaled, building walls back up, but a part of her thinks they are useless now.

The next day, the news came, sharp and shrill. Rey was running a circuit around the bridge. Backflip, swing, dodge, hurl boulder, launch across, and back again.

Poe and Finn joined her for lunch, as they did most days. Rose wasn’t with them today, which presented a twinge of disappointment for Rey, to her surprise.  She sat cross-legged with them, taking a moment to laugh at her friends – she wasn’t used to laughing and these moments were few and far between.  Finn was generally terrible at hiding his worry, Poe was moderately successful at disguising his admiration and . . . more, for her.  Rey could tell that she should not be able to see through them so easily, but, as Luke had noted, she is strong.

“Bit of unfortunate news,” Poe said, staring into her bones.  She shrugged uneasily.  His eyes were the wrong color.

“What happened now?” Her stomach dropped and her hand flew to her breastbone.  He’d gone on a rampage.  He’d lost her and he’d burned a city to the ground.

“Kylo Ren told a bounty hunter not to lay a finger on you, said quote, ‘She’s mine.’”

Rey snorted, because this didn’t quite sound like him. “Please,” she muttered into her sandwich.

“I saw the video,” Finn grimaced, looking uncomfortable.  “He almost killed the man.”

Rey frowned. Almost? Sounded even less like him.

She felt the pull of their bond almost immediately, and she tried not to groan. Not now.

He appeared, standing behind Finn, staring into the outer reaches of space, not noticing her.  Huge.  Looming large behind her friend.  She cleared her throat.  “I’m not afraid of him.”

The effect of her voice was instantaneous.  His whole body tensed, his long elegant fingers curling up into fists at the sound of her voice.

He turned, a startling look of blazing triumph on his angular face. Her breath caught in her throat, staring up at him, he was so tall, such a foreboding presence, a pillar of raging emotion. She felt pinned, trapped, as he merely stood there for a few moments, drinking her in.

Poe’s voice broke through, tinny and far away. “Rey, are you alright?”

His hand touched her wrist, and she jumped, torn away, turned to offer Poe a small smile.  “Of course. Don’t worry.”  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him burning, glowering at this man.  “Isn’t it time for your meeting?”

Poe looked sheepish and ran his fingers through his hair.  “You’re right.  Sure you don’t want to come?”

Rey snorted, and rose to her feet.  “And what will it be today? ‘Can she really protect us if he comes?’ No, thank you. I have things to do.”

Finn ventured, in an almost total non sequitur, “Someone yesterday said that you lifted an entire Y-Wing.”

Rey couldn't help but blurt, “So what if I did?”

He was getting impatient, stalking now, pacing back and forth, his eyes fixed on her face.

Finn looked momentarily dumbfounded, and then grinned.  “You have to show me later!”

“Get out of here,” she admonished, half-heartedly.

He left, Poe ahead of him.  She is staring at her mortal enemy, her closest friend.

His throat worked, jaw clenched, the warring emotions flickering over his face.  He is smug, he is yearning, he is thirsty, he is jealous?

She almost turned to spite him, but he managed to get out, “Rey.”

She didn’t speak, didn’t move. Her emotions are an ocean today, the waves concealing the depth of her turmoil.

“There are so many things to say.”

“I’d rather you don’t speak,” she told him.

“I saw him, that pilot,” he gritted out, the words seeming to flow involuntarily. “He touched you.”

“Sometimes people do that,” she told him, almost resigned now, trying to maintain her composure.

His eyes are fire and ash. “He wants you, I could see it on his face.”

“Your eyes betray you,” Rey hissed, and instantly she regretted it.  No.  This was not what she meant to say and she did not want desire discussed.  She should have side-stepped.

He, as she knew, couldn’t seem to help himself.  “I want you in ways that peasant could never imagine.”  She tried not to let the words affect her, but the wave still crests, she calmly allows others to wash over her, but the sting of that one remains.

She already knew he wants her. That was not the issue here.

He closed his eyes, he breathes, he steadied himself. “It is good to see your face.”

She was half surprised by this turn. “I wish I could say the same.”

His lips quirked into something like a smile, stealing her breath again. His eyes open, but they are still burning. “Still putting me in my place. Reminding me that you left me.”

“You gave me no choice,” she finally spit this out, another wave cresting across the shore in her mind.

He is gone.

The following week, systems start to feel out the Galactic Senate. Meetings have been held. The Supreme Leader is still searching for Rey.

She still woke up with his voice ringing in her ears, but now sometimes she could also feel him in a corner of her mind, telling her that he is coming for her. Sometimes he is immeasurably angry. Sometimes he is anguished and alone. Sometimes his words burn with fire and she runs until she can’t run any more.

She tries very hard to ignore him.

Four months from Crait finds her creating a new fissure in the ravine. The Force summons him for some unknown reason.

She hadn’t seen him, she had vaguely wondered if he had been resisting.  This time she spoke first.  “You’re crazy, you know.”  It’s conversational.

He looked at her like a starving man. “I am starving,” he rumbles, picking the thought straight out of her head. “I can’t find what I need.”

You.

The implication is heavy and Rey flipped her lightsaber in annoyance. You could have had me, she wants to say.

His rage sparks against her, and he sneers, “Where are you.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Rey. I’m going to find you. I need to find you.”

She did not want to hear it, her lightsaber hummed to life and slashed the air – his own ravaged blade is solid, there.

Wide-eyed – he can’t really be here – but then ferocious, she hammered on him, until he disappeared.

This happened every day for a week. He asks her where she is. She begins swinging at him.

It felt good to work out like this. And she needed the practice.

But it was also wearing down her resolve. Every time he came, he unblinkingly allowed her to fight, watching her in earnest.

Every night, she heard him begging her.

He was gaining strength against her, but she couldn’t figure out how. At the end of the week of their sparring, as she sleeps, she is in the throne room. As always.

Something is wrong. It’s burning. He isn’t there.

His voice echoed suddenly. “Join me.”

She screamed, her patience so thin. “Stop it!”

“Please.”

Rey woke and showered, but could not drown out her thoughts.

He appeared. She swings. He won’t engage, he holds a hand up. “Talk to me for five minutes.” The request is dangerous. His anger is roiling. “Then I will fight you.”

She is tired.

Rey nodded and collapsed on a stone slab next to her bridge, saw him sit in his room, but he is right next to her.

“So.” She paused. “How are things.”

He smiled, a real smile, and she is momentarily dazed. There he is, she thinks, Ben.

She hadn’t allowed herself to even think his name, let alone say it. She thinks for a heart stopping moment that he has heard her, and he leans in close, “I would be better if you were sitting here with me, looking at me like that. Like you might give a damn.”

“Giving a damn got me nowhere,” she said, in a tone meant to be cool. “You’re still with them. You’re still a galaxy away.”

He growled, “I killed him for you.”

“You did that for you,” Rey is not sure. It shows.

His fists are hard on his thighs and she tried not to look, how his muscles are straining, how the veins in his arms are defined and his hands would dwarf hers. Tried not to think of how she likes his hands. How, when she is not exhausted, deep in her bones, she drifts off, thinking of his hands and what they could do to her. “I did it for you,” his voice was softer. “But I haven’t said thank you.”

Rey was not prepared for that. “What?”

“Thank you for giving me the strength to kill him, to pull away,” he told her, and his storm of emotions is silent. “You reminded me of what it was like, before I met him.”

She caught a flicker of wistfulness, sorrow. A brief touch of memory – Leia hugging a child.

“You’re still you,” she could not seem to stop herself. “Kylo Ren.”

Anguish. Fury.

“That’s five minutes,” he said curtly.

Chapter 2: I'll Never Tell You

The next day, he shadowed her through lunch.

“Don’t you have a galaxy to run or ruin or whatever your job is,” she hissed through her teeth as Poe approached.

He didn’t respond, his arms crossed and eyes burning into Poe’s flesh.  She buried a flash of annoyance that he could see her friend and used a cloth to wipe sweat from her face.  He annoyingly wasn’t even breathing that hard.  They’d only gotten in two short bouts – she could only assume that it was much hotter on her planet than whatever coolant rigged room he was glowering from.

“If you were here, we could be eating lunch together right now,” he grumbled.

Rey glared at him. “That’s what we would be doing?”

“Among other things.” And his voice is dark and hungry and he is too close. She imagines she can feel his breath on her neck. “I have a lot of ideas.”

Rey had only seconds before she could no longer speak to him. She did not use those seconds wisely. “Tell me.”

His grin was blinding as he settled beside her, ignoring Poe even when she could not. “There is a set of cliffs near my mother’s homeworld system. We need to go flying there. You’d love it.”

Not where she thought he would start.

He kept interjecting these kinds of thoughts as she struggled to maintain a rational conversation with the two men who were flesh and blood with her.

Poe predictably said something meant to be adorable and chucked her on the shoulder.

This cut him off abruptly (“I think that you would like having a waterfall in your chambers.  A far cry from Jakku. You could, you know.”) and now she is certain she can feel his breath on her neck, his arm at her waist.

She is very still.

His voice, dark with the need she can now recognize for what it is, sunk its teeth into her.  “I can see what he wants in his mind.”

She couldn’t move.  Instead, she offered a half smile to Poe, forcing a laugh.

An image flashes into the back of her mind, Poe’s hand is buried in her hair and he is kissing her in the river beneath her bridge.  She feels disinterested at best, surprised, and a bit shaken.

“I knew it.” The image flickers and dies and she is floored by his emotions – the rage almost dormant, exhilaration and possession and hope blazing through him. “I knew you did not want him. It’s not how I would do it, but – ”

The image reappears and it is Kylo Ren, resplendent in a heavy black mantle, standing ankle deep in the water, his fingers in her hair.  In his thought, he is holding her up with those big hands, muscles straining, as he devours her – nothing like the polite earnestness of Poe – and she can feel his fingers on her waist in the hazy present, he is pressing her against him and her breath hitches, confusion spiraling with his need.  Or is it hers?

“Yes,” he breathes, making her skin tingle.

“The holonet was buzzing today,” Finn said, but Rey is watching the long fingers tug through her hair, his lips angling against hers, and she is still aghast at the evidence of everything they hadn’t been talking about – well, what she hadn’t been talking about. “Kylo Ren is delivering a speech about elections tomorrow.”

“You’re what?” She gasped, this thought jerking her wide awake, banishing his thoughts for a moment. He grins against her neck, although he feels a mixture of frustration now. Quickly realizing her mistake, she said, “I mean, what?”

“The Order hasn’t carried out a military mission that wasn’t defensive in three months,” Poe told her, and she can feel her visitor’s excitement rising beside her.  He brushes his fingers against her cheek, and her skin stings.  He chuckles, sounding so smug she wants to punch him.  “Kylo Ren just returned to Coruscant yesterday. He was looking for you in the Outer Rim, but apparently disrupted a minor slave trade that was flourishing out there instead.”

“I couldn’t find you.” The sorrow in his words feels real, screws into her like guilt.

“What has the General said?” She couldn’t say his mother’s name when he is beside her.  But he is distracted anyway, fixated on the sensation of touching her, and she nearly drowns in it, barely keeping afloat in her own ocean.

“We aren’t going yet,” Finn said. “She thinks it is a trap.”

“What is he doing?” And the hiss is primarily directed at him, whose nose is now in her hair and her breath is stuttering, her stomach clenching.

“Who knows,” Finn shrugged.

“You’ll see,” he breathes. “I’m feeling magnanimous. This has been the best day I’ve had in years.”

She is working very hard at being an ocean.  She doesn’t want him to feel what she is feeling, she needs to work it out on her own.  He can feel her withdrawing, and he regretfully drops a hand from her cheek.  “I’m sorry,” he says unexpectedly. “I’ve been controlling myself with you. The pilot unsettled me.”

She finds that it is ok.  She lets that emotion through.  The immediate punch of satisfaction from him is exceedingly annoying, and she scowls.

“There are more rumors,” Poe said, his sharp gaze boring into her. “That Kylo Ren is nothing like Snoke, he was just a puppet, and now he has his own mind. That he wants to rectify the damage done by that tyrant.”

Rey stood, leaving the man at her feet, needing the ocean to encompass her, to cut him off.  She couldn’t hear this.

“Rey?” Finn looked concerned and a corner of her brain registered it.

“I’m fine.”

“We’ve all suffered at the hands of that monster,” Poe said.  “It can’t be true. Can it?”

The rage spikes through her ocean from his baleful eyes, upturned, fixated on her face, that word. Monster.

She chose her words carefully, trapped in the inferno of his gaze. “He is not what he seems.”

Poe was only silent for a moment. “He killed Snoke, didn’t he.”

Finn lashed out, “Poe!  She said she doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“Why is he looking for you?” Poe’s gaze was still intense, and she suddenly saw jealousy reflected back at her.

He is gone.

Her shoulders slumped.  She collapsed on the ground, the effort of the ocean, of so many restless nights weighing on her.  She didn’t want to talk about this.  But maybe she should.

Not with them though.

She ignored them quite well as she examined her thoughts.  Now that he was gone, her feelings were resolving themselves, becoming less jumbled.

She turned over, staring at the clear blue sky. She could not trust him.

But there is a part of her that still thinks he is Ben, that maybe he is going to pull through.

A part of her that wants him to be Ben, wants to be with that person she saw in him that night when he killed Snoke, for one blinding moment. She’d felt it in him in flashes when he appeared before – the light.

So she’d wait. She wasn’t going to encourage him, but she wasn’t going to let him divide her any longer.

If he became Ben. Then she’d consider him.

This decision opened a door she’d been fighting to keep closed – a door hiding dreams and possibilities and the deep, shaking need to be with him, with Ben.

She breathed it in for a moment, thinking, yes.  Maybe this could still happen.  Maybe he will pull through.  She leans into the kiss he gives her in the ravine.  She sees him standing next to her, fingers trailing through a waterfall on a small table, his other hand in hers.

She resolved to close this door again, because he didn’t deserve it and he had a lot more work to do. And she couldn’t know his intentions behind the driving need.

She let go, at peace with this decision, and something boomed off to her left, shaking the ground beneath her.

She sat up to meet the stares of Finn and Poe – Finn looked slack-jawed, Poe’s admiration was burning so bright – she’d just cleared rubble from an entire excavation, effortlessly, without thinking. A project she had been meaning to spend the afternoon on.

“I just needed a minute,” she reassured them. “Kylo Ren . . . Was trying to find me. He has not.”

Poe grimaced. “You could feel him?”

“It is not uncommon with Force users,” she lied. “I need to keep moving. What should we do next?”

Finn tried to drop it for her, told her about a training crash she could move.

She moved it, exhaustion seeping deep into her bones.

It was not enough.

“Please.”

She woke up as always, ears ringing. She blocked him the whole day, but she also talked to Leia. A short conversation, a warning that Kylo Ren may have changed, after all. Leia did not ask out loud, but Rey could feel her concern, her sorrow.

Kylo Ren’s announcement was a timeline. Elections in a month, withdrawal of some occupation forces in six. His leadership indefinite for now.

“Loyal citizens,” his voice crashed over her like a wave, deep and modulated through the stupid helmet. “Let us walk forward into this new day together. I speak now to the Resistance – I see the purpose of your fight. The needs of my former master were cruel and unjust. He destroyed many an innocent and crushed any spirit. I look forward to the day when we can work together to restore order to the galaxy. To rebuild the Galactic Senate.”

The entire room, the largest hall in the base, was almost full. Everyone was silent.

“Let’s see what happens,” Poe’s voice broke into the fragile ice.  His eyes had found hers, boring uncomfortably into her as always.  “Let’s prepare to defend the elections as a neutral party.”

Rey dropped Poe’s gaze, stared at her hands, clasped carefully in front of her as she stood behind Leia, drinking this in.  She had half expected him to mention her.  Her mind was clear suddenly.  Clearer than it had been in days.

Everyone was staring at her.  She looked up to survey the throng – this wasn’t even a fourth of the people who lived on the base.  People had kept coming, hearing about the Jedi and the world she protected.  She didn’t know how they found her, while he could not.

She had been ignoring all of this.  Didn’t want it.  Leia knew, and Rey was tangentially annoyed by the woman’s happiness that Rey had come at all, that she was standing as a leader.

If leading meant clawing tooth and nail, she’d be good at it. Not all problems could be solved by sheer exertion alone, and that was why she did not want to lead.

Still. The Force was gentle with her, guiding her past the instinct that made her only see hostility.  These people cared about her, took pride in her.  She even liked some of them.  Rose caught her eye, smiled encouragingly.  She wasn’t alone.

He was. Damn him.

“Kylo Ren may not be the threat we thought,” she admitted this and he was pushing into a corner of her mind, trying to gauge her reaction, still a maelstrom of fury and need.

That also hadn’t changed.

She maintained her calm. A lake, flat and calm now, he couldn’t read her.

She opted for opacity. “The Force has been guiding me these past months. It teaches patience in the wake of change.”

Someone shouted, “What if he finds you?”

“What if he finds us?” Rey’s reaction even surprised herself – she would not entertain rumors and half-truths.  The life force tugging her against all these people – it made her feel strong, centered. “I will handle him.”

A thought spiked out at her, from Poe. That man won’t know what hit him.

Leia drew her aside, after. “Rey. You’ve grown so much, but I just want to make sure you are alright? These months have been hard for you – you push yourself so much.”

This was the moment she needed. Her mind was still clear, she had even blocked that corner where he is swirling, frustrated and alone.

“There is a problem,” her breath stuck in her throat suddenly, what a relief this was!

“He talks to you, doesn’t he?” A tear rolled down Rey’s cheek. She was still so angry at him. She tried not to be. She wished she was stronger.

Luke materializes. “You are stronger than I ever was.”

Leia does not appear perturbed by this. She never was. “Your strength is incredible, Rey. How is my son?”

Confused. Angry. Killing me.

“Change is not easy,” Luke says. “I did not have this opportunity with my father, to see him change. He burned it down – Ben could have done that.”

“I know what he could have done,” Rey snapped. “I know how high my expectations were.”

Leia had so much hope. More than Rey. “Maybe he just needed more time.”

“Every time we speak he is just grinding on me, trying to convince me that I should join him, that we won’t be alone. Even if he has changed, it makes me want to kill him,” the words just spilled out of her. “He left me. He chose this. He chose to be alone.”

“He regrets these choices?” Leia sounded like she was trying very hard to not let the hope bleed into her voice.

“It doesn’t change the fact that he hurt me!” Rey burst out, but her own words stopped her.  Was this more personal than she had realized?

Luke says, “Clear your mind.”

Kriffing sands. “Fine. He’s changed.”

“Please help him, Rey,” Leia clearly meant it as a favor.

Rey felt more like herself, getting this off her chest. Though she wasn’t herself, any more, she thought.

She was a Jedi. She was strong enough now to survive anywhere, to never have to worry about food or water again.  She was stronger than her past – she hadn’t spared a thought for her family in months.  She had these people, the Skywalkers, Finn and Poe and even Rose.

In a weird way, she had him.

He was really going to have to work for this though, she thought again.

“We already decided to be ready for the elections. I will let you know if anything changes.”

She tried a new tactic over the next three weeks, getting to know the many people at the base, not as wary.  Helping them.  Working from sunrise to sundown with different people, expanding the base, training, rebuilding.  She even went on a mission, dealing with a rogue Order fleet and sending the underlings of the mutineers back to Kylo Ren.

She slept marginally better.  He hadn’t seemed to make progress past the empty the throne room.  He didn’t materialize, and she said nothing.

Their Force bond still presented him to her a few times.  She was busy, and so was he.  She saw him struggling to focus on meetings, searching for her, he saw her drilling with new battalions, building hangars, catching the predators that liked to rip down satellite dishes.

What a welcome break.

Finally, after a couple days of him becoming more and more insistent – alternating between the rage she knew best and the begging that cut into her very soul – she gave in. She had taken a break from people.  She was back by the bridge, and a number of target droids were clustered behind her.  She had been testing herself, why not test him?

“Rey,” his voice is furious.  She shivered.  “Rey, where are you.”

Right.  He’d gone back to searching for her.

"Do you mean it?” She cut him off.

His fists are clenched, veins straining in his neck. “Do I mean what,” he gritted out.

She shrugged, really trying to keep her emotions in check. “The elections.”

“Of course I mean it,” his voice hissed out. “Which you’d know if you would just talk to me.”

She shrugged. “I don’t need to talk to you.”

The fury wars with hurt and incredulity inside him. “Yes, you do.”

“I have others I can speak to.”

This time he draws his lightsaber instead of her.  She welcomed this, fighting was easy.

When the Force banishes him back to his sparse ship, she sighed.  He hadn’t quite failed the test.  He hadn’t passed either.

That night, he talks at her, like she has never heard him before.  He tells her about his parents, about the Jedi academy.  Adventures with Chewie.  A friend he had lost to Snoke. Flying though the cliffs he had told her about. 

She woke up, and her heart isn’t beating out of her chest. She stared at the ceiling, swallowing against the last memory he’d shared of Luke showing him a starfish in an ocean far away.

Maybe she won’t test him again.  

Chapter 3: The Less I Think About It

The Force called him to her at lunch, when she was at a mess table with more people than she’d ever imagined actually knowing while on Jakku.  They were preparing to leave to rendezvous with the navies of several systems.  She’d only half listened when Rose talked about places they had never seen.  She was not sure she was going.  

He looked haggard, like he hadn’t slept while he whispered to her in her sleep. He was in a rigid parade rest, boring into her soul, as much of it as he could see.  She blinked.  His gaze flickered around the table, his lips curling as he saw Poe.  She immediately excused herself to get more food.  

He walked with her, still glowering, but today all she can sense is desperation, pain.  

“Thank you,” her mouth felt dry. “It is nice to talk to you sometimes.” 

“You didn’t talk,” his retort edged with only a jagged confusion.  “I’d hoped you’d want to after my announcement.”

“How is it going, anyway?” She avoided the personal talk.  “Logistically speaking.”

He sighed, running thick fingers through his hair.  “Difficult.  I can’t wait for Mother to get here.”

Now she felt him trying to gauge her feelings, and she felt confident in the door that hid her true ones.  She remembered what he had said, when she had told him that he would get nothing out of her, when she had strained against bonds, physical and mental, several lifetimes ago. 

Before she had truly fought him for the first time.  Held her own.  Left her mark in his flesh.

Before she had met Luke.  Gained, learned of her own strength.

Before they had really known each other.  Before she could read him like she couldn’t even read her own mind, her own feelings.

Before all that, he had been so sure – so cocky.  He’d offered her this barely perceptible, smug and infuriating smile.  He’d said, “We’ll see.”

She didn’t doubt herself.  He could only see so much.

The memory seemed to flicker across his face, his big eyes wide with that ever-present self-torture, regret, but that supreme confidence still echoed in his persistence, determination. “Will you come?”

She doesn’t answer because she isn’t sure yet. 

His desperation claws at her throat suddenly, and she gasps. 

“I thought you wanted me.”

He grits it out like the words are dragged over a landing strip, graveled and catching, as he looms next to her, his eyes never leaving her face.

It’s a declaration if she has ever heard one.  She shook her head, placing another roll on her tray just for something to do.  “I can’t trust you.”

He was volatile, flipping on the edge of a coin, elation creeping in.  “So you do.”

What was the answer here?  She didn’t want to hurt him. “I still can’t trust you.”

The slightly manic gleam in his eye did not frighten her, but it was disconcerting.  Like a glimpse into a future that didn’t exist yet, a knock on her door.  He stepped closer, sensing his advantage.  “I’m going to prove myself to you, Rey.  I am.  I will make myself worthy of you.”

Despite this being something she secretly wanted to hear, she was still annoyed.  Maybe she would always be annoyed with him.  The annoyance stirred up reluctant feelings, catching at her throat like his words had at his.  “You have a lot to prove,” she says instead, striding back to her table.  

He is so close.  His fingers brush her cheek.  

“What was that?” A frightened voice breaks into her mind, shaking him away.  Rey doesn’t know the boy who has spoken, who was staring hard at the patch of nothing that was just Kylo Ren. 

Hm. 

Rey caught his mother by the sleeve, asking where they were from.  Maybe the boy would like to see her train.  His mother seemed frightened, but not of her.  

Her friends were gossiping when she returned.  She didn’t want to hear anything else about him, but by now, Finn and Poe found him endlessly entertaining.  

“He’s in the Yavin system again,” Finn looked confused as he said this. “Far from here. You’d think he would be better at this.”

“He’s not,” Rey muttered.  

Several sets of eyes settled on her.  “Still not up for discussion.”  Their groans sounded good natured, and she smiled at Finn, who was just burning with curiosity.  Her reluctance to discuss him – to discuss Snoke – was now well-known, not even a point of contention, really. 

Rose leaned across Finn – “Is he hot?”

Supremely grateful that he was no longer present, she scowled at Rose, who had no personal experience with, no personal hatred for this enemy.  Seemed to think he might be a victim, just like the rest of the debris left in Snoke's wake. The rest of the table actually laughed, except Poe, except Finn.  “What kind of question is that?”

“He is searching for you everywhere,” Rose grinned.  “Aren’t you the least bit curious why?”

“Maybe to kill me?” 

Rose rolled her eyes.  “You need to keep up with the holonet.  The whole First Order is convinced he is in love with you.”

Rey felt the words punch her in the throat, she was lost for air.  The whole kriffing galaxy.  He’d – why – how could he –

She roared into his mind like a sandstorm, truly furious for the first time since Crait.  She’d been doing such a good job at controlling it.  She’d done such a good job at ignoring anything about him unless she had to know. 

His mind was wide open to her, he clearly didn’t bother to protect against her, perhaps because she had never done this. 

Less than ten minutes had passed, but now he was with others.  Generals, by insignia, a meeting, holograms because he was far from home.  He held up a hand, his emotions turning, and said, “There is a disturbance in the Force. I will be back with you in a moment.” 

She’d caught him however.  His anger, nearly nonexistent.  His pain, ever present.  And in the forefront of his mind –

The moon of Yavin he was searching had the same climate as her planet.  A driving need, a purpose.

The depth of that purpose, the strength. 

His only purpose.

The darkness, the need, hungry and desperate.

The earnestness, matching the darkness, bright, certain, yearning.  

She recoiled, shocked, truly shocked that he’d hid that light from her.  She had been thinking that maybe his feelings were not real, that he was simply guilty, lonely.

His eyes didn’t betray him.  They burned like fire. 

Far away, Rose grabbed her hand, which was shaking, along with the table, her silverware. 

He didn’t seem to realize how far she’d gone into his mind.  He was bewildered on the surface, stunned by her anger, her strength. Good. Her thought screamed at him. You should be.  You don’t know me.

The anger was dangerous. His was rising, answering hers, obscuring what she had seen, felt, clear as a kyber crystal. 

That was fine.  She needed this, needed to rage against him, because the light had called to her, had whispered that word to her, the word that she equally hated and wanted to respond to more than anything. 

“Rey.”  His anger wrapped her name in darkness laden with purpose, desire.  “What – ”

She saw his eyes widen as the spark for the inferno lodged in his brain, as he processed her reaction to the gossip she’d just heard.  Panic flashed for a moment, buried quickly by the anger and contempt.  “Don’t believe everything you hear,” he sneered.  “Love is for children.”

You told them there was a disturbance?  Her thoughts felt hysterical.  Do they know? 

He relaxed against the pilot’s seat, the sneer twisting against his lips, smug.  “Know what? You never come to me.”  He leaned forward, his eyes burning.  “I wish you would.  Where are you, Rey?” 

“Stop looking for me!”  She knew, distantly, that she’d accidentally said these words out loud, and Rose’s hand was tight on hers. 

She tried to pull out, but the Force had other ideas, keeping her in his cockpit.  She was breathing hard.  Why did it need her here?  She closed her eyes, breathing deeply, ignoring him, taking hold of her anger, resisting his. 

She felt his position wavering.  He wanted to talk to her.  She had surprised him, so angry after he clearly thought he had gained ground.  He was unsure.  “I will never stop looking, Rey.”  But wistfulness edged the anger, and she saw through him. 

She dug deeper in the Force allowing acceptance to flow through her.  Alright. 

He was gone.  

The silverware settled. The world returned to color, the space of the hall expanding out from the cramped cockpit, Rose touching her hand. 

The girl was all rounds, eyes and mouth. “You truly didn’t know.”

Leia was there, behind Rose and white as a sheet.  

“You saw him?”  Rey groaned.

“I also had to stop you from starting a storm of silverware,” Leia’s voice was warm, amused, belaying her shock. 

“I’m sorry,” Rey meant it.  She hadn’t meant to lose control like that. 

“It was merited,” Leia said.  “I sensed his presence.  His words were. . . Unexpected.” 

Rose was still gripping her hand, intensely scrutinizing her.  “So it’s true?” 

Rey gritted her teeth, the acceptance of the depth of his feelings weighing against her chest.  “I feel the conflict within him.  I can’t say what he will do or why.” 

Rose gave her hand a final squeeze.  “It’s ok, Rey.  Whatever happens.  There are so many reasons to hope.”

“Thanks,” Rey’s throat felt thick.  She was grateful for this friendship, something she had never dreamed she would have.  She was also grateful that Rose seemed to think that Rey had not failed at her mission. 

She would never forget the look on Leia’s face when she told her, “I thought I could turn him. I failed.”  She’d said it tonelessly, thoughtlessly, in a public space.  She knew that the whispers had started because of that, because she had admitted to having some sort of connection with him, to seeing something in him that others did not see. 

People were of course staring, but Rey had not realized how used to her they had become.  No one seemed that concerned – of course Leia had helped prevent a true scene. 

Poe’s wingman looked unperturbed, as did a lieutenant named Connix who Rey had been getting used to during her campaign to meet more people.  The rest of Poe’s old squadron were clearly listening, but none of them looked more than perhaps uncomfortable.  

She took a deep breath, she squared her shoulders, looked at Rose.  “Tell me about the First Order.” 

After lunch she told Leia that her son loved her, and that she was still very angry and didn’t trust him.  

Leia told her to come with them to observe the elections.  “You won’t have to see him if you don’t want to.”

Rey reluctantly agreed. 

When she prepared for bed, she thought, I will see what he has to say tonight.  I will be on Corscaunt in two days.  

The throne room burned as always.  

For once, she tried to speak to him. “Please don’t go this way.” 

He was there, for the first time in weeks.  Directly before her. 

The pain from earlier was stark, but his anger was back and twisting like a living thing between them.  Her fault. She sighed. 

He rumbled, “You’re talking to me?” 

She cleared her throat uncomfortably.  “Yes.”

He narrowed his eyes, and she felt him reaching out, moving through her mind.  She didn’t try to stop him.  Those walls and doors – he wouldn’t be able to break them. 

He found her genuine remorse, her conflict.  He did not find her shock, her knowledge of his mind.  He did find her acceptance – though it confused him because he couldn’t quite gauge what this meant for him.

She wasn’t entirely sure.  Hence, the conflict. 

“There was no conflict before,” he said evenly, the anger lashing against her, making her unsure.  “You believed in me wholeheartedly.” 

“I still believe in you,” she found this hard to admit. 

“Yet you won’t talk to me while I am singlehandedly attempting to sew democracy back together and I have no idea what I’m doing,” he growled.  

“I certainly don’t know anything about democracy,” she protested.  “How am I supposed to help?”

“I’d like your advice!” His voice was rising, on the edge of a shout.  “Your faith!  At the very least, tell me if what I am doing is right!”

“Can’t you see that on your own?”  Now she was shouting.  “You should know right from wrong!  You are not a child!” 

“If you think I am doing the right thing, I would still like to know!”

“Of course you should hold elections!  That is just common sense, I don’t think you should get credit for simply meeting that low bar!” 

“It is a big deal for me – a military does not run as a democracy!  But it still functions.  So too could a government.” 

“Not a good one, not one that will do the work of the people,” her retort had lost some of its bite.  

“So.  You agree with what I have done?”  His gaze was taut, expectant.  He’d drawn closer than she realized.  He was staring down at her from his great height, wearing only loose slacks and a sleeveless top.  Black.  Thick muscle wrapped his arms, tensing as he unconsciously flexed his fists.  She imagined the ocean now, burying her reaction beneath other emotions rippling across the surface.  

He had been paying close attention, and his eyes are burning.  She clasped her hands in front of her, the Force rippling around her, deep and calm.  “Of course,” her voice was steady.  “If you go through with it.  If it works.  If you continue the transition.” 

“Oh, I will.  Will you come?”

He is focusing on something and she can’t quite catch it.  Her fingers tighten over her knuckles.  “I have entertained the idea.” 

“Come.” He tilted his head back, regarding her with those burning eyes.  “Please.”

Her heart stuttered like a traitor.  The throne room, the fire, flickered and suddenly all she can see behind him is dirt and shale.  She blinked in a twilight haze, stumbling as she looked down and realized she is standing in water – she can’t feel it and it’s disconcerting.  

Stumbles right into him.  

His hands caught her, and it doesn’t feel like she is dreaming.  He is warm and real and she is stunned that after so many nights he has managed to conjure up – the river, below her bridge in the ravine.  Of course. 

“I thought you said this is not what you would do,” she told him, looking up at him very slowly. A hand had landed on his chest.  She could feel his heart beating, steady.  She didn’t think she should move it.  His palms are near her elbows and her skin prickles with his heat.

“I wouldn’t,” he scoffed.  “You can’t hide this from me, Rey.  It’s what you want.”

“You don’t know what I want,” but her voice is breathy as his left hand dropped from her arm to span her hip, his hand was huge and slipped against the skin underneath her sleep shirt.  She tried to shut off the part of her brain that wants his fingers elsewhere.

“Don’t I,” he laughed, darkness and gloating.  He had laughed.  Her brain seemed several beats behind his fingers trailing up her side.  “I can feel ripples of it now, and just moments ago.  You want me to touch you, to wrap my fingers in your hair.  You want to know what I taste like.  You try to hide it, but you can’t hide from me.” 

He stepped into her, she could feel every muscle in his chest.  She grabbed his arms to either steady herself or step away – but in the moment where she was deciding, he wrapped his hand through her hair, tugging gently.  His breath is hot and vivid near her cheek.    

Her fingers dug into his chest, his arm as she tilted her head up.  He smelled like leather.  Before she collected her wits, she wished that he slept without a shirt.  Time for that later.  Focus. 

“I’ve been hiding quite successfully from you,” she told him, trying not to drown in the depths of his dark eyes.  Her nails bit into his bicep, and he hissed, his fingers tightened in her hair.  A shoot of pleasure and pain went through her neck, distracting.  Edging at her control.   

“And yet here you are.  In my arms.  I’ve never felt so alive.”

The heat clawed at her throat, making it hard to breathe around his smugness.  “Don’t get used to it.” 

“If this were my dream,” his tone was conversational and she was definitely feeling things she thought she had locked up. “You’d be sitting in my throne, and I would be tasting you for the first time. You’d look a vision, thighs spread, fingers in my hair.  For once you’d be begging me.”

She forced herself awake, her heart beating out of her chest again.  She knew that if she had stayed a moment longer in his dream – despite his denial that it was his, it was definitely his – she would have kissed him.  His words, his hands, dwarfing her, making her burn. 

Making her want him even more. 

It wouldn’t have been so bad, she thought, aching.  Behind the door in her mind, she wanted him desperately, needed him.  She didn’t normally let herself think these things because very few corners of her mind were safe from him, and the more she thought about him, the easier it was for him to break her – as was evidenced by tonight. 

But she needed him to prove more than just his ability to please her.  She needed time, to see.

Still, she could give herself this moment.  She wanted to feel this.  She thought about his words, his huge hands burning heat against her skin, imagining it was his fingers deep inside her as she searched for her release.  She moved her fingers faster, roughly, knowing that he wouldn’t be gentle, he would want more and he would take it –

“Please,” she murmured, gasping, so close. “Ben.” 

She sighed quietly as she came, the tension easing, muscles spent.  

A moment of calm.  Peace.  Bliss.

Then – kriffing sands, he was going to be insufferable if he found this memory.  She stretched out on her cot, beginning to meditate, burying this private moment deep. 

Two days to Courscant.

Notes:

Obviously I borrowed "love is for children" from a true icon. RIP.

Chapter 4: I Know There Is Strength In Numbers

 

This was only the second time she had left her tiny planet in months.  She’d built a shield generator to protect the base, but part of her felt that it was unnecessary – if he hadn’t found her yet, he wasn’t going to find the base while she was gone.  

Everyone seemed to be avoiding her this morning, but she didn’t much mind as she ghosted through the store rooms, the hangars, the mess halls, all that she had help build while they were waiting for people to fill the space.  She found herself outside, staring over the bridge, looking at the bustling city that had sprung up across her ravine.  

It had basically happened without her even noticing, despite the empty field and gently sloping hill between the main hangar and the bridge being generally known as her territory.  Bars had sprung up.  A salon.  A day care center.  She would have been shocked, but the Force was flowing through her, a river of tranquility and calm.  

It brought Luke. 

“Have you opened the box I asked Leia to give to you?”

Rey grimaced.  “I haven’t yet.  I am sorry, Master.” 

He chuckled.  “You’re busy.  Look at what you have built.”

“How did this happen?”  She hadn’t really meant to say it out loud, but it felt like the last four months had been the longest in her life and that she should remember them well.  She did not.  Or, at least, what she remembers is narrow.  Narrow focus, narrow gains.  Build a bridge.  Move some rocks.  Shift a Y-Wing.  Thatch a roof.  Even when she had started talking to others, feeling out the human relationships that she craved, her focus had been narrow.  Speech.  Strength.  Individuals.  Not big picture, she left that to Leia, Poe, and the other people who knew how war and politics worked. 

Luke laughed again.  “You are narrow minded, but it is a strength, not a weakness.  You see obstacles and you overcome them.  You are untroubled by their collective weight.”

“Others can worry about that,” she muttered.  “Although, I have started thinking, if I really am the last Jedi – I would not like to be.  I would like to teach, like you did.”

“And you will be better at it than me,” Luke told her.  “Your years in the desert left a clean slate.   My years in the desert made me antsy, a dreamer.  Yearning for something more.  You taught yourself discipline, patience.  I never had any.”

“You had enough,” she told him, an echo of a past not her own washing over her.  “You are a good teacher.” 

“You have everything now,” he told her, his eyes crinkling at her compliment.  “With everything I have taught you, along with everything in the box you’ve decided not to open, you have thousands of years of knowledge.  I would prefer that you do not waste it.” 

“I won’t,” she told him carefully, ignoring his teasing.  “This is something I can see.  It is something I saw when I saw . . . his future.  I saw us teaching, I saw the Jedi spreading peace throughout the galaxy.” 

“I know,” his voice was suddenly heavy with age, regret.  “There are many things you have yet to learn.  And I know someone who can teach you some.” 

“Someone?”  Rey was confused.  He couldn’t mean his nephew.  He had learned everything from Luke too.  “But none are left.” 

“It is someone I want to introduce to you,” Luke told her.

Rey felt another Force signature coalescing, along with a spike of emotion from the main base down the hill, from Leia.  

“Maybe we should wait for her, actually,” Luke suddenly looked uncomfortable.  “She hasn’t seen him in . . . a long time.” 

Rey was curious, but unperturbed.  “Should I teach on Anch-to?”

“There are a few places you could teach.  I think you should consider the rebuilt Temple on Coruscant, however.  At least, to start.  That is an old tradition I should not have ignored.” 

“Did you find anything?  Was there anything left?”

Luke crossed his arms, looking grumpy.  “I’m going to leave that question to our visitor.”

“Have you . . .tried to talk to . . .”  She couldn’t say his name just yet.  She was afraid that he would appear.  

Luke still looked grumpy.  “I am still disgruntled with him.  The boy has a good deal of hate in his heart.”  In response to Rey’s stony expression, he held up a hand.  “But I’ve come around to your way of thinking.  I’ve sent him a couple notes, unclear if he wishes to return them.” 

“You . . . know what I told Leia, right?”

“That he loves you?” Luke sounded supremely casual.  “Come on, kid.  Here, you’re too narrow minded for your own good.” 

“How was I supposed to know?” she spluttered. 

Luke clearly did not think this warranted an answer.  “While we wait for Leia, I am going to explain the contents of the box.”

Luke ran through a number of texts, a holographic archive drive, a robe that had belonged to his Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi, a lightsaber that had been built by one of the members of the last Jedi Council, a collection of holocrons from the most ancient Jedi, Yoda.  “You will be able to run through a large range of the electronic information quickly,” he told her.  “Not in-depth, but the basics were meant to be immersed in months, not years.” 

Leia arrived, alone.  She did not look pleased.  “I had assumed he had passed on,” her tone was sharp.  “Otherwise, perhaps he could have helped my son.” 

Luke looked abashed.  “He tried, Leia.  Snoke blocked him, for all of these years.” 

Some of the tension eased from her shoulders.  “I suppose that’s a passable excuse.”

Rey watched as another Force ghost coalesced in full – he’d been waiting for Leia.  He was a young man, much taller than Luke, with wavy golden-brown hair and blue eyes, clad in Old Republic Jedi garb.  A scar marked the right side of his face, near his eye.  

He reminded her of – 

“Leia,” the man inclined his head, his voice husky and untouched by time.  “I trust you are well.”

“Father,” Leia’s tone was just a shade warmer than frosty.  “Rey was planning on leaving with us soon, to go meet my son.”

“You’re Darth Vader?” Rey blurted out, remembering the firm belief held by Kylo Ren that he was carrying on his grandfather’s legacy.  

Heir apparent to Lord Vader.

But Darth Vader had been one of the most terrifying men the galaxy had ever known.  And this man – she could see him as intimidating, in the set of his shoulders, the furrow of his brow, but –

“I’d prefer Anakin, young Padawan,” the man told her, his voice smooth, confident.  He was certainly not what she had expected.  

Also, was she always going to be a padawan?!  “I thought you said she was patient,” Anakin quirked a brow at Luke.  

“Compared to us?” Luke laughed.  “More than patient.” 

“Have you seen my son?”  The irritation radiating off Leia was more than palpable.  Rey thought anyone, Force sensitive or not, would have felt it.

“Yes, but I have not told him who I am,” Anakin said slowly.  “We have spoken about conflict.  Turning back.  I have advice, but no experience.” 

Leia looked moderately appeased.  “I have last minute details to attend to.  I expect we will speak soon.  Rey, you have two hours.” 

Rey spent those hours discussing logistics, lore, training.  There was no time for sentimentality, personal questions. That was fine.  She’d find out.  

Luke was annoyed.  His father had held out on him. 

“I hid a weapons depot, a training ship, during my rampage,” Anakin admitted.  “I thought I could use it for future Sith, but instead I was uninterested in teaching.  When you asked me, Luke, I kept this one hidden, against this day.” 

“Right,” Luke was still annoyed.  “Against the day I failed.” 

“As a backup plan,” Anakin corrected, an amused smile curling at his lips and making him look handsome, warm.  The confusion that Rey had shelved popped up again, but she buried it in light of the task at hand.  “The Jedi had many.  It is the only one I know of, but I have an idea that there are several more, untouched.”

“Well I found another,” Luke groused. “No thanks to you.” 

Rey invited them to stay as she packed, prepared, boarded Leia’s flagship.  Requisitioned a hangar to train in.  Covered an entire holoboard more than ten times in notes, trained, plotted a course to the training pod, for when the time came.

Night arrived, but she didn’t want to sleep.  She continued.  

Anakin had seen the Jedi during the end of a golden age.  He showed her all that he could, the amount of knowledge staggering.  A world of glitter and wisdom and power.  

Gone.  

The amount of remorse in Anakin, also staggering. 

So like his grandson.  In looks, in temperament.  It was becoming less confusing with every passing minute.  

Others visited.  Obi-Wan.  Obi-Wan’s Master, Qui-Gon Jinn.  Yoda. 

So many names and years and places, so much more than she had ever imagined one galaxy could hold.  Words spun around them, breathing life into what had been lost.  

Time lost meaning.  

Before she knew it, Leia was gliding across the hangar, still looking vaguely disapproving when she saw her father, still here, still with Luke.  “We have arrived.  You should rest.”

Rey left Leia to talk to her father, after thanking Anakin, Luke.  

Her brain felt overstuffed, but she was so grateful.  She had heard so many stories, learned so much.  She knew this would not be the last time.  

She hit the fresher in a daze, bone tired.  She hadn’t slept in over 52 hours.  She wasn’t sure if she should risk sleep . . . but perhaps if she slept when he was preoccupied with his mother, with meetings. 

She slept.  

She saw Leia from far away, as if she was watching from the window of her shuttle.  

Kylo Ren stepped onto the platform to meet her. 

She woke up, slightly disoriented.  

The throne room had not appeared to her. She did not know what this meant.  But she felt amazing.  Refreshed. 

She rose, did a morning meditation and workout, showered.  A sun was rising.  

If she had really spent the entire journey with the Jedi, then today was the day of the elections.

It was strange not having a plan for today.  And she actually missed him.  The amount of energy in the hangar had been overwhelming – she had been totally immersed and she doubted that he had been able to feel her.  

She imagined that he was dressing carefully, setting his broad shoulders against the day.  Thinking of her?  Wondering where she might be?  

He might not even know she was here. 

She put on the old Jedi robe Luke had left her. 

She exited her quarters, thinking she would go find Leia, before almost running straight into Rose.  “Nice,” her friend complimented her.  “Is that like formal wear for a Jedi?” 

“Sure,” Rey shrugged.  “Fill me in on what’s going on around here.”

A third of the systems previously represented in the Galactic Senate had come.  More representatives were said to be arriving, and Kylo Ren had made a huge formality of meeting with General Organa-Solo.  

She’d seen.  

“Of course, there is widespread speculation as to whether you are here,” Rose told her.  “Leia didn’t tell him yesterday.” 

“I think I will stay inside,” she said faintly, as very suddenly a rush of emotions hit her, tugging at her through the Force.  Not him.  “There will be crises to be averted.  I will need a place to meditate, where Poe can figure out what to do.” 

“He is through here,” Rose looked worried.  “What is it?”

“Unrest on Bothan,” she paused, searching out the unfamiliar feelings, discerning the names of places she had never seen.  “An attack on Naboo.” 

She sat down on the floor in the bridge, ignoring Poe as Rose spoke to him, deeply embedded inside the fluctuations of the Force.  She could see the lights of Coruscant, a place she couldn’t even begin to fathom.  She didn’t try to.  The number of souls below was vast, but she was untroubled.  Others needed her, and she couldn’t catch it all.  She suddenly realized how he must feel, leading, gauging the feelings of the men he led, the fleets he commanded. 

She carefully avoided reaching out to him.  They both needed focus, clarity today. 

Leia came in around lunchtime, to tell them that votes were being cast in all the represented systems and any First Order controlled worlds not represented.  Rey’s vigil had prevented bloodshed on at least three occasions, preserved the integrity of the elections at least once. 

The team on the bridge skirted her, their emotions barely registering in her consciousness.  She continued to dwell on the lights of Coruscant, allowing the Force to guide her mind.  

Rey meditated well into the evening, finally she had a moment to ask Leia if she had seen her son. 

“No,” Leia’s smile was tight.  “He wore his mask.  I felt his conflict, but he seems sure this will work.” 

The throne room returned that evening, but he did not.  Just whispers as before.  

He must be tired too.                                                           

The Galactic Senate met, and Leia decided she would stay, for now.  Rey was exhausted, but she went with her shuttle to the surface to say goodbye.  She was still wearing the robe, finding some comfort in the garment as she internally lamented being separated from Leia.  People had taken to calling her Commander Skywalker (why she deserved Luke’s title, she did not know) or Master Jedi. 

Leia still called her Rey. 

She watched from the view port as Leia was met by dignitaries, by – 

Her heart clenched, seeing him for the first time in over four months.  

She instinctively, reflexively reached out –

The bond roared to life, making the distance between them – for the first time since the throne room, perhaps only one hundred meters – minuscule.  

Immediately, she knew, he had not known.  

The presence of the other Jedi had snuffed her out.  He had assumed she had not come, he was hurt and frustrated and furious, but also pleased with how his project had turned out so far.  And now, seeing that she had come, that she had been here – he was confused, how had she hid from him?  But he was also elated to see her, desperate to touch her –

She took a deep breath, overwhelmed by this sensory overload.  Too tired to properly react.   

He stepped forward, a hand outstretched.  Now she reacted, she was aghast at his forwardness.  “Please,” the helmet distorted his voice, made her mindful of their audience, despite her lack of focus on them. “Join me.  Stay.”

She felt Poe and Rose behind her, both frozen in this moment with her.  Of course, they had not heard his words, but he must look quite the sight. 

She cleared her throat.  “I have something I must do.  And you still have much to prove.” 

She knew her emotions belayed her words, somewhat.  Under her calm exhaustion, she was truly happy to see him. His words felt so familiar, so natural, filled a void she hadn’t known had opened within her.  

A not insignificant part of her wanted to order them to reopen the gangway, to run to him.  To tear that mask off.  To show the world – Ben. 

His inhale was sharp, his desire stark and hot and uncontrollable. It washes through her like ripples on the lake that is her mind. He takes another step closer.  She remembers how his eyes had burned when she had seen him last. His hand meets her shoulder and it sends a shiver through her, his gloved palm like a brand. His thoughts are consumed by her kissing him on the platform, moments from now.  She is just as hungry and relentless as he is. The future flickers.  Please.  

But his hand jars her into Leia’s present, who looks at her sharply.  Rey knows Leia agrees.  It's too soon. 

“Commander Skywalker,” the captain’s voice sounded far away, and also nervous as hell.  “Are we cleared for takeoff, sir?” 

The question hung in the air a beat longer than she had meant it to.  She exhaled, allowing a fleeting thought of the impossible kiss to echo back to him, to appease him. 

“Yes.”

She turned, breaking the connection, looking at Poe and Rose, whose deep unease, shock were mirrored in his own men on the platform.  

She was once again aware of him, in the back of her mind.  He was equal parts hopeful and furious.  

“He isn’t moving,” Poe muttered.  “I was sure he would stop us.” 

“When we move out, plot this course, Captain,” Rey handed the man a holodisk, the one she had prepared with the help of Anakin.  

“We aren’t going back to base?” Rose was confused, and looked at Poe as if he would contradict her.  He did rank higher than her, after all. 

“I said, I have something I must do,” Rey told her.  “A slight detour.” 

In her mind, she saw him, his outstretched hand clenching into a fist. He was still burning, yearning for her, certain that she was closer than ever.  He spoke again, out loud – so many could hear him! – “I will never stop looking.”

I know, she thought at him, somewhat exasperated.  Cutting him off, but not quite successfully, she felt him reigning in his anger, turning back to Leia, standing on ceremony.  

She refocused on her friends, the captain.  The task at hand.  

Poe did not question her orders.  

Notes:

Team: I want to thank all of you for taking this journey with me! I am having a very good time exploring Rey as a strong female character, and I really appreciate all of your comments.

Apologies that this chapter was mostly plot (and an exercise in one of my deepest wishes for the franchise). We will get back to the main event shortly.

I started writing this fic because I saw Adam Driver in a play - Burn This - and he killed it. It made me rethink Kylo Ren and how he could fit together with Rey, as she deserves. I just rewatched the Phantom Menace, which, by the way, holds up better than expected (aside from the shockingly racist tropes) and Amidala is such a freaking badass in that movie. She is like fuck all y'all bitches I am going back to my planet to either save or die with my people. And she is stone cold! And a crack shot! And totally calm and collected while in the middle of a firefight, executing a near-flawless plan that she came up with herself.

Everyone who has written a Star Wars film since that movie would have done well to study her character is what I am saying.

End rant.

Chapter 5: If I Could Do It On My Own

When they returned to the flagship, she moved with concentrated distraction past Poe, striding toward her quarters with a single mindedness she thought would deter him.  It did not deter Rose, who was almost jogging to keep up with her.  “That sounded hard,” her friend observed once they were out of earshot.  

Rey blew out an explosive breath – he was very focused on his mother, he didn’t even seem aware that she was with him, slightly – “Very,” she agreed. 

“What did he say?”

“Please,” she ground out.  “Join me.  Stay.  The usual.”

 “The usual!”  Rose sounded breathless.  “Stars, he is a lot.  Doesn’t it wear you down?”

“You’ve no idea,” Rey exhaled, finding talking about this as if it were normal surprisingly pleasant. 

“In front of all those people!”

“Not sure how he is going to explain that.”  She paused.  “It’s the incessant begging that is so tiring.  I didn’t think him capable.  And once he found that he was, he hasn’t stopped.”

“I wouldn’t have imagined,” Rose’s eyes were wide.  “Him!  The Supreme Leader!  Begging!”

“It does sound like nonsense,” Rey muttered, in what sounded like agreement. 

Nonsense.  A thousand life times ago, beneath an unforgiving sun where the dunes shifted below her feet, she would not have believed that her solid ground would someday be an indelible and invisible river of power flowing through her, connecting her to the Supreme Leader of the First Order.  A thousand suns ago, she had not even known his name.

Rey’s comm beeped as they stepped into her room.  “Commander, the course has been laid.  We will arrive at 18:00 hours tomorrow.” 

“Thank you, Captain.  Please notify me when we arrive.”

Rose eyed her warily.  “Will you sleep?”  This jerked Rey sharply out of her thoughts, and her gaze toward her friend was perhaps a touch too glaring.  Rose looked unabashed, but she still tilted her head in a conciliatory manner.  “Leia was concerned, she told me to keep an eye on you.”

“Ah.  Of course.”  Rey moved to stare out the viewport, down at the city of a world.  She found him in the set of her shoulders, the way she unconsciously clasped her hands behind her back, and she quickly straightened, turning back to Rose.  “I might have to sleep now, while he is distracted.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“That is very kind,” Rey told her.  “But I doubt it.”

“What is it?”  Rose pried.  “Nightmares?” 

Rey was almost certain he couldn’t hear her.  The weight of the words rising in her throat made it hard to swallow them back.  Rose looked so concerned, felt like she would listen to anything, so genuine and warm and light.  The words spilled out in a flood.  “It used to feel like a nightmare.  I’m back in the throne room.  It’s burning.  Usually I can hear him, begging me to stay.”  She swallowed, and her hands clenched.  “Just like he did before I left him to go to Crait.”

Rose was silent as she digested this.  “Is he – is he there?”

“I think he was always there,” Rey muttered.  “For the first couple of months I wanted to believe it was my own mind playing tricks on me.  But he was trying to break through.”

Rose swallowed.  “This is why you can’t sleep?”

“I can sleep.”  And she needed to.  But – “Sometimes it just makes me more tired.  I’ve felt better over the last week.”

“Rey,” Rose stepped forward, wrapped her hands around Rey’s fists.  “Thank you for sharing this with me.  I know it must be hard.  Do you want me to stay?”

“Maybe some other time,” Rey untangled her fingers and drew Rose in for a hug.  “Thank you.”

Rey napped, undisturbed, and then rose to meditate. 

When he slept, she felt the pull of the throne room, but ignored him.  

She still heard it though.  That one word that screwed into her like the scream of an unfamiliar engine as a transport landed on Jakku. 

The hidden Jedi vessel was just where Anakin said it would be.  

“Commander Skywalker,” the captain really liked using this name.  Or it made him more comfortable.  The word “Jedi” unnerved some people.  “We have arrived at the coordinates.”

Rey exited her room with her pack, headed toward the hanger.  She’d folded her cloak and was dressed in her normal day wear – day wear that had slowly started to look more and more like tunics from the Old Republic – she knew what Jedi looked like now. 

She was testing space around them, testing the emotions of the crew, and sailed right past a number of people without acknowledging them, oblivious to the small crowd in the hangar as she stopped to stare into the void revealed by the opening hangar doors, visible through the field protecting them from the stars beyond.  

Rose and Poe were there, Poe was studying her intently.  She could feel his emotions clouding the air – admiration, always.  A tinge of desire.  Warmth.  “What will you do now, Jedi?”

“There is a ship here,” she told him.  “Lost from the Jedi Order of the Old Republic.”

“This makes a lot more sense now,” Rose grumbled.  “Not that I was questioning your sanity or anything like that.” 

Rey laughed.  It felt good.  

She concentrated, itching to find and deactivate the cloaking device.  To her surprise, it was more difficult than she expected. 

“Bring it in,” she murmurs, and it suddenly lit up like a beacon, almost startling her.  

She frowns as it comes in – the Force is sluggish and strong and strange around it.  She’s suddenly very unsure. 

It’s been awhile since she felt this wavering uncertainty –  in the cave? 

A flash of cold and howling wind, wisps of clouds and thin air drives through her.  A rattle of a ventilator echoes, a hum of a lightsaber falls.

She doesn’t realize when things start vibrating around her, when her brow and her teeth contour in something very like rage. 

The ship settles, but the doors don’t budge.  A couple minor things – a crate, a wrench – clink experimentally against its hull, bouncing dully to the floor.  

This was going to be much harder than she had thought.

Despite Rose’s periodic nagging, Rey wasn’t sleeping much.  She was careful to nap when he was in meetings, which wasn’t hard.  The lack of the throne room seemed to weaken their bond – he didn’t appear to her but even though she was ignoring him, she could feel his frustration.  

They’d been back for a week – two weeks? – when Finn came to try to talk to her.  

“Hey, Rey,” he said cautiously.  “Any luck with the ship?” 

Rey was not exactly tired.  In some ways, she was resting better than she had before.  In other ways, her body was exhausted from staying away from him, on top of the various exercises and power drains she was performing.  Missing him.  Hearing that word in her waking hours, her silent vigil.  She was immensely frustrated because the length of each day told her something she already knew. 

She growled, “Of course not. I’ve been set up.”

Finn looked confused, and Rey felt an uncharacteristic flash of irritation.  “What do you mean?”

“The Jedi who told me where it was want me to talk to –” she is suddenly very sure she cannot say his name. “Talk to him. I need his help.”

Finn’s breath sucked through his teeth so loudly, Rey winced and his exhale was just as loud.  “This makes sense now.”

“What?” Rey snapped, her voice sounding unused in her own ears.  

She blinked, catching the irritation this time and turning it over carefully, like a piston part she’d never seen before.  Had she spoken to anyone this week?  Rose, each morning.  “Morning” was a lose term.  

Is this normal, she thinks suddenly, reaching out through the Force, feeling for assurance.  And she’s thought it too loud and she can feel him stirring there in the back of her mind. 

“You made everyone a little nervous, is all.”

She pulls hard on the thread that connects her to Luke, and he deigns to come, to stave him off.  

“One moment, Finn,” she breathed. 

Luke was grinning at her, and she gritted her teeth.  She’d spent days – eleven? – combing through the holocrons he’d left her – the suggested skim digest of a month evaporating as she applied herself with vigor (and very little sleep).  She was not done.  Perhaps she would never be done.

“Master Luke,” she said, half for Finn’s benefit so that he would know why she needed a moment.

“How is that ship treating you, Rey?”

“You know damn well what’s happening here,” she grits out.  “What happened to ‘he is too far gone, anger leads to the dark side’?”

“Things change, my young padawan,” he is still grinning.  “It’s time for you to make your own mistakes now, kiddo.”

“You know what will happen if I go to him.”  She is under no delusion that Luke is not aware of the desires of his former and current padawans. 

She is not ashamed of her feelings.  She was a luminous being, but she was also crude matter, and she embraced both aspects of herself.  Her mind was fulfilled and at peace, one with the Force.  Her body only would be once she was with – she stopped her jumbled thoughts before they summoned his name, summoned him.

“I do,” Luke nodded, looking more somber.  “The Jedi were wise.  Perhaps not in this way.” 

“I will change that tradition,” Rey told him.  Final warning, Master. 

“Change is healthy,” Luke answered.  “If only someone had told me that.”

She smiled at him, her anger momentarily forgotten.  He left before she felt it tightening her neck again. 

She turned back to Finn.  “Well. At least he didn’t try to deny it.”

Finn didn’t look amused.  “Don’t you think you need some sleep?”

Rey laughed, despite his lack of levity, laughed at his very real thought that she was losing her mind.  “I’m not crazy, Finn.  Luke and his father set me up, that’s all.  I can’t get into the ship without . . . Help.” 

“You mean, him.”

“Yeah.”  Rey glared at the ship. 

“What did you mean, when you told Luke that he knows what will happen if you see him?”

Rey swallowed.  She wouldn’t say it out loud yet.  “I think you know too.”

Finn was still.  “Poe is going to be really pissed.”

Rey shrugged.  “He’ll get over it.”

“Why don’t you come eat dinner?” Finn asked. 

She agreed, and realized that she hadn’t moved much from her territory – the large grassy expanse on the incline just off the path between the main hangar and the bridge – since she had arrived from space, days ago.  She’d been back to her quarters for the ’fresher and not much else.  She’d napped and ate on the hill next to her new ship – which barely fit into what had once been her field.  

She’d absentmindedly pulled on her robe, and as she walked through the base to the main canteen, she wasn’t entirely oblivious to turned heads, sudden silence.  This hadn’t happened in a while.  Her lightsaber – Luke’s lightsaber, Anakin’s lightsaber – was heavy against her thigh.  

“It’s like they haven’t seen a Jedi Knight before,” she said lightly to Finn, the anger still working through her muscles, showing in the fingers that now clasped around the hilt, needing to distract herself.

Finn scowled at her.  “I don’t think you realize what you look like in that.  It’s like a legend, come to life.  It’s incredibly disconcerting.”

Rey grinned at him, her muscles trying to relax.  “You find me disconcerting?”

Finn spluttered and Rey noticed that Finn was lying.  The edges and lines of the feelings around her were wary and awed.  Wary.

Rey spotted Rose carrying two trays of food out of the canteen toward them before Finn collected himself and waved.  “Commander!” Rose smiled.  “I was about to come to you.  Are you joining us?”

Rose’s emotions were unchanged.  No wariness there.  She followed her into the canteen.

Rose chattered about the gossip on the holonet.  Finn blushed when she touched his hand.  Rey hid a smile beneath her hand – this hadn’t changed.

Neither had Poe, who sauntered in with a completely transparent air of coincidence.  He and Finn had been trying to join her for lunch as they usually did, but she hadn’t realized how much she had been ignoring them.  He looked just as concerned as Finn, asked her if she was alright once he came over to sit with them.  The concern wafted through her like sand, gritty and everywhere.

Rey was tired.  She slipped, as Poe smiled that easy smile at her, wondering if one day, he might smile at her here.  Together.  

A mistake, of course.  She felt the yawning darkness of space at her back before she knew that he was there, somewhere behind her.  

His emotions were chaotic as always, but they curled around her like a cat would welcome its master home.  His anger was heavily veiled by a sense of relief so strong, she couldn’t quite discern it for a moment.  For a moment it had felt like need, like protectiveness.  Like panic.

What had he been so worried about? 

Rose had just asked her a question about a quarry she had meant to start on, but hadn’t.  She tried to focus on her friend, telling her that she wasn’t sure when she would start. 

But –

His hands landed heavily on her shoulders, and she actually started, surprising herself with her own shock.  She had half expected him to prowl around and ignore her.  Maybe he was busy.  Instead, he leaned into her, his forehead resting on the top of her head, tension washing from him in waves.  

“Rey,” he groaned, his fingers squeezing gently, she could feel him shake against her.  “Rey.”

She didn’t understand what was wrong.  

“Please, where are you?” His breath was ragged next to her ear, sending a spike of fear through her for the necessity, the urgency in him.  “Please don’t do this to me again.”

The relief was about her?!  She was perfectly fine. 

“You feel thin, and tense,” he told her sharply.  “You do not feel fine.”

She mumbled under her breath, “What is wrong?”

The anger spiked a bit, but the relief was holding strong, enveloping her, warming her, choking her.  “I couldn’t see you, but I could feel you.  Weaker and weaker each day.  You’re not sleeping.”

Well.  That was true.

“Please, Rey.” The words are fervent, and his hands knead into her shoulders, making her stretch.  She is very tense.  His fingers are strong and sure and warm and why had she been avoiding him?  Pleasure sparks from the points of contact through her consciousness.  She is too calm to hide it.  

Her pleasure does something to him, pulls at the darkness and the buried anger and a sudden, sharp flare of possessiveness.  She is shocked when he buries these flares, like they almost didn’t exist.  He is focused, even though his breath is still stuttered.  “Please.  Sleep tonight.” 

“Poe,” she asked suddenly, and his fingers tighten into her at the name, this breath is more than ragged, it is rasped and buzzing with the anger.  “What are you all avoiding telling me?”

The conversation had sort of slid to a stop around her when she had quietly said she wasn’t sure about the quarry. 

Poe, Finn, Rose, a couple others were staring at her.  

He is listening.  He wants to know, too.

Poe cleared his throat.  “In the flagship hangar, you drained all the small crafts of fuel, energy.  Here, the shield generator won’t work, it hasn’t rained in ten days, but there has been lightning, fog.  Despite the weather, the crops are flourishing, erratic – we’ve had an early harvest, new growth.”

His breath is hot against her cheek.  “This imbecile should have dragged you inside three days ago.  I would have.  What happened?  Why are you doing this?” 

Rey reached out carefully this time, past him, into her world beyond.  Cataloguing the ties in her hold.  Thinking of the experiments, the meditations she had tried.  Hm.  

The environs Poe described made sense.  She hadn’t meant it, but based on what she had read, it was possible.

“Why didn’t you try to stop me?” Rey asked instead. 

“Jedi,” Poe breathed out the word reverently, and she hears the hiss in her ear, tenses as his teeth scrape against the shell.  “This is your world, I wouldn’t tell you how to live in it.” 

“I’d have done,” Rose piped in.  “I was overruled.  Sorry.”

The energy she had consumed, the energy she had bled back out.  It wasn’t enough.  

She knew what she had to do. 

His teeth closed down harder, she involuntarily arched slightly, gripping the table.  The anger was flaring, the desire, overruling the concern, relief.  “I’d have stopped you, if you were here.”  His voice painted the feeling, a moment where they were together.  She melted into it, thinking of that warmth, thinking, I could be there.  With him.  His tongue rasped over her earlobe, sensing her wavering, her thawing toward him.  He growled, “If you were here, I would have tied you to our bed, if I had to.”

Her mind instantly became the ocean, the eddy formed by his words inconsequential among the waves.

“Luke could have told me,” she informed Rose.  “That he did not indicates that perhaps he thought I should work it out of my system.”

His deep frustration at being unable to see her, touch her over the last week and more bleeds into her as one large hand cups her neck, the thumb rubbing stubborn knots out of her spinal cord.  Trying to get another rise out of her.  “Is this my fault?” His voice is hollow, furious.  “Are you trying to punish me?”

“Anything we can do to help?” Rose asked.

Rey smiled at her.  Rose was so kind.  “No.  I have someone I need to talk to.”  She took a breath.  “Kylo Ren.”

His shock at this turn of events stilled his hands for a moment.  Silence blanketed the table.

“I’ve heard he’s been screaming in his sleep,” Finn blurted out. 

“I heard he left, looking for you, three days ago,” Rose chimed. 

“You can’t be serious,” Poe growled, putting both hands on the table in front of him with an unnecessary amount of force.  “Kylo Ren?  What could he offer you?”

“Everything,” his answering growl is sharp and sure and unwavering.  “Exactly what you need. Whatever you want from me.  A galaxy.  Power.  One night.  Anything.”

His teeth scraped at her right shoulder and she shuddered.  He liked this, moving his lips against her skin, his teeth nipping, his tongue searching.   

“I need another Force user,” she told him.  “A strong one, like me.” 

The anger surged.

Poe still looked very annoyed.  “How do you know he will help you?  You can’t bring him here.”

“Tell me where you are,” his voice is even, measured.  His tongue lashes out, sucking at her skin and she has to bite her lips.  “Please.”

“I won’t,” she promised, standing suddenly, mostly dislodging him.  “I need to get some sleep.  Sorry about – whatever has been happening.”

“Wait, Rey –” 

“Later,” she called over her shoulder, making a beeline for the door. 

His steps are heavy next to hers; he still has a hand on her neck, his elbow resting along her shoulder blade.  He has withdrawn slightly, it is harder for her to read him, but she instantly regrets it when she meets his gaze for the first time.  Nothing is hidden in that expressive gaze – and his want is painted clear for her to see.

Maybe someday they could walk like this in public.  But in her territory, around her friends – he would never touch her like this.  His thumb brushes against her skin and just that small motion jolts her.

She turns away, but does not shrug him off as she walks beside him.

“Where are we going?” He finally asks her. 

“Apparently I need to sleep,” she mutters.  

The corridor was loud and he fell silent.  She glances sidelong and his gaze is darting around, taking in the people around them – but this was just a throughway, nothing secret or special. 

His demeanor changed suddenly, and he stopped, causing her to pause, drifting out of the way of traffic. “Yes, General.  I will be with you in just a moment.”

His eyes slid to hers, the hand gently spanning the back of her neck squeezing briefly. “I have to go.  You really are sleeping?” 

“Yes.”

He didn’t release her, but he took her hand and brought it to his lips, eyes smoldering.  “I will see you soon.  We have much to discuss.” 

He was gone.

Chapter 6: I Have a Job To Do

She monitored him briefly, as she always did, as she made it to her room, but it seemed safe. 

She sat down heavily on her cot, her mind spinning now that he was gone and she could think.   After the relief had faded – he was going to be angry again tonight.  He must be angry at her for leaving him on the platform, and his anger had been unmistakable when she said she needed him because of his Force sensitivity, not for . . . some other reason. 

His anger was dangerous because it burned as hotly as his passion, stoked his desire.  

Dangerous.  Made it hard for her to think, anything she could do to remain calm, gently riding the ocean waves.

I would have tied you to our bed, if I had to. 

Whenever he said things like this, it was like opening a window to a future becoming clearer and clearer, more real by the day.  

His relentlessness was paying off.  She’d been waiting for the future to waver, for him to waver – because while she had faith in herself, in her ability to fight and scrabble and build and wrestle her way out of the hole he had dug for them, she could not depend on him.  Not yet.  She could only control her own emotions, reactions.  She could not depend on him for her own happiness, safety, sanity. 

One day.  Maybe soon.  But she had been working on establishing those things for herself.

It was becoming increasingly apparent that he was rubbish at acting independently of her. Well, that wasn’t entirely true.  It seemed that he was trying to impress his mother, trying to help fix the wrongs Snoke had committed in the galaxy.  It seemed like he wasn’t just doing it for her, that he was trying to remember what right and wrong looked like.

So he had changed.

And apparently, the future wasn’t going to waver.

She was going to have to move very carefully then.  She wasn’t about to just capitulate and let him do whatever he wanted – he did not deserve that yet, and, if she was being honest, she enjoyed watching him squirm.  Enjoyed watching him tie himself in knots trying to please her.

This was also a bit of a surprise.  She smirked.  It was nice being alone in her head.  Recognizing her own desires, thinking about him as not just a risk, but someone who could fit into her life.

She’d keep the door locked.  She’d see how he behaved himself.  And maybe she could indulge, just a little.

She’d meant what she had said.  He still had much to prove.  And she had a job to do.

That she needed him to complete this job was no surprise, and did not alter her resolve. 

She eased into a meditative pose, taking stock of her body.  Her muscles were a bit sore and tight, but the tension was easing now that she was relaxing.  The past ten days had been hard on her muscles, but she had never felt calmer, more focused. 

You are ready.

It was Anakin’s voice, and she was not feeling charitable.

We will discuss the Jedi trials, in the morning before you go to meet my grandson.

Oh.

That should be interesting.

She showered and uncharacteristically slept in simple sleep pants and just a breast band. 

Ammunition.

When she arrived in the throne room, she knew that she had slept for hours, maybe twelve or more, and the rest had settled into her skin. 

He wasn’t there. 

Rey paced around the circumference of the room, her fingers trailing through harmless flames.  No blood.  No bodies and disarray.  Just the flames.  She paused by the viewport, imagining the remnants of the fleet, bits of pewter strewn across an uncaring void.

Stars he was dumb.  So many lives lost.  So much vengeance and hate, and for what?  A scared little boy who didn’t want to believe that he had been played, abused.  A wounded animal, lashing out.  He’d known nothing but pain.  Rey couldn’t blame him, exactly, and she didn’t, or she wouldn’t be here, in this room, stuck in a past moment that had imploded. 

She thought he was still adjusting to life without the pain, that he expected her to hurt him, that he couldn’t see past his relentless pursuit, not really.  Just that he needed purpose after all that pain and she was that for him.

She didn’t want to hurt him.  He’d suffered lifetimes.

But.  She was sure doing anything against his will would hurt him.  So if she had to hurt him, then that was his own stubborn, inflexible fault.

The word snaked through the air, stirring flames and giving her a heartbeat of warning. 

He was silent, a shadow behind her that she could see on the edge of her vision. 

Where to begin.

She turned, clasping her hands in the relaxed, meditative pose she had come accustomed to.  She was calm.  She was an ocean.  But still, her heart fluttered, her breath caught in her throat.  In this moment, she let herself think.  He is beautiful.  But she was in control.  “Kylo Ren.”

His eyes were narrowed into slits, a muscle working along his clenched jaw.  He was wearing his sleepwear, the loose slacks and simple sleeveless top that showcased his broad shoulders.  Anger, radiating off him in waves.  Implacable.  Resolved. 

Resolved?

She could tell, not just by the tenor of his feelings, but also by the strain in his corded neck, the steel of his arms and clenched fists that he was exerting an enormous amount of self-control in staying where he was.  Did he want to fight her?  Kiss her?  She couldn’t tell.

She watched him watch her. 

He didn’t rise to the bait, he waited. 

“I’m sorry I made you worry.”  The tic in his jaw worked, she had to fight the urge to swallow nervously.  She was.  Sorry.  She’d needed the time alone, but she wasn’t alone any more.  She’d forgotten, sucked in.

“I’ve been working on a project, and I’m used to ignoring everything else when I am working. I’ve found a Jedi ship, from the Old Republic.”  He exhaled, and she exhaled with him, some of the tension draining from her shoulders.  “I cannot gain entry.”  He jerked his head into a nod.  “Will you come?”

Her directness had surprised him.  He began to pace, in tight controlled spirals, never moving closer, never removing his gaze from hers.  She waited. 

The resolve was beginning to unnerve her.

“You have to understand,” he finally gritted out, his teeth still clenched, his stride rigid, tense.  “This is hard for me.  I am used to being obeyed.”  Her breath hitched again, buffeted by the strength of that word, his power.  “I am not used to having an equal.” 

She sighed as he continued to pace.  Progress. “I appreciate that.”

His eyes were burning, and her own hands were clenched now.  “Do you?  I humble myself before you, I exist, at your pleasure.  You know I will come.” She couldn’t hide the satisfaction, the swift punch of success.  He bared his teeth, lunging forward before he stopped himself, “You must stop doing this to me.  I have conditions.”

“Doing what?” She exhaled, her breath cutting through the heat like steam. “You’re the insistent one.  Relentless.”

“You have to stop teasing me.”  He was stock still, his muscles rigid.  “I ask that you treat me as an equal."

She turned inward considering.  Hm.  Perhaps she did not see him as such.  “I respect you, if that is what you mean.”

“Then you will respect that I will not do this for you without something in return?”  His hands clenched, unclenched. She was momentarily distracted, she thought for a moment, what might it be like?  Those fingers, curling inside, making her scream.

His tenseness broke, he moved toward her again, two quick strides.  She became very still, and he stopped, his hand outstretched.  “This is what I mean,” he breathed. “I know your mind, what you will show me of it.  I know you want me, I feel these moments when you indulge, you think of me giving you what you want.  And yet, you shut me out, you refuse to see me.  You tease me.  Please.  Give me an opportunity to prove myself.  If you respect me, you will.”

She considered these words.  How mature.  Interesting.  A constructive use of his anger.  “What are your conditions.”

He crooked his fingers, beckoning her forward.  “I am not rejecting you,” she said carefully.  “I just do not know if touching you in this moment is a good idea.”

“Thank you for your honesty,” he breathed.  “I have to beg to differ.  Every moment I have where I can touch you is a gift.  Please.”

She closed the distance, suddenly confident in doing as he asked and she slid her hand into his.  He breathed deeply, his eyes closing.  She felt the deep satisfaction, the settling of the anger from within him.  He appeared to be keeping his desire in check, so it was easy to think, to allow his grip to center her. “If you want my help, you will come to me.  I am with my fleet, aboard my flagship in the Ryloth system.”

“You do not want to know where I am?” The words were out before she could think to retract them.  She was getting what she wanted, why question it?

“When I said I have conditions, it is not just my own feelings I am concerned with.  I also need my generals, my people to have faith in me. They need to see you.”

Her own anger flared.  “Why.”

His grip tightened, his anger responding in kind, heated.  “You will come.  You will board my ship. You will respect me as the leader of the Republic.  You will eat a meal with me, in front of my people.  Then we will go deal with your problem together.”

“I am not a trophy you can display.”

His nostrils flared.  “Certainly not one I have won,” he sneered.

She yanked their hands up, pushed against his chest.  “You’re infuriating!  How do you expect me to respect you if you’re like this in public?”

“I’ll behave if you will.”

She huffed, “I will not put on a show in front of an army.”

“You will,” he hissed.  “Or I won’t come.”

"I will come, you will greet me, we will leave,” she hissed back, her fingers tightening on his.  “With an escort.  Of your choosing.”

“I will grant you an audience,” his voice was low, cold.  “I will make you wait.”

“You will not make the Jedi wait.  Especially not the woman you have been chasing all over the galaxy for months.”

“You’re right – not in the throne room.”  He tightened his grip, leaned closer.  “I will make her wait for me in my quarters.”

“Absolutely not,” she gritted out, but she was drowning in his eyes, reflecting the fire that danced behind them.

“You’ll stay in my quarters,” he breathed, bringing their clasped hands up, touching his lips to the back of her hand.  “Everyone will know.”

“A far cry from a meal in front of your soldiers,” she could barely think, her mind an ocean, her desires hardly contained.

“I’ve changed my mind,” his growl rumbled against her skin, set her aflame.  “My quarters.  One night.  Or no deal.”

“Not on the Destroyer,” she snapped. “No one can know.”

“The Silencer,” his lips moved against her fingers.

It would be good to see him. 

“I’ll do anything you want,” all his muscles were tense again, and her free hand landed on his bicep, distracted by the strength, the control, the fury.  He growled when she touched him.  “Come to me.”

“Thirty-six hours.” She inhaled sharply.  “You will not touch me in public.”

“I will not kiss your palm in greeting,” the note of heat in his voice sank into her, echoed in her mind.  “I will not draw you close.”

His hand was on her waist. He brought his forehead to hers, breathing in.  “I will not take your kriffing infuriating mouth in front of my men.”

She clung to him as he nosed down her hairline, inhaling at her throat.  Danger, her mind screamed, fire.  You’ll get burned.  “I will think about how you look right now,” he mumbled along her pulse point.  “Ravishing.  Nearly naked for me.”  She was too distracted by his tongue to retort, he was doing something to her, swirling over her skin and it was stars and sunshine and desert heat. 

She tried.  “You –”  He bit down, his lips sucking and claiming, and her thought, if it had ever been one, ended in a gasp, a strangled moan.  He angled against her, sensing his advantage, wrapping his long fingers around her neck, pressing his thumb into her jaw.  “I will think about these moans,” he rasped, his teeth scraping again.  “I will think about how I finally have you, in the flesh.”

“We’ll see how you do,” she managed.  “You better not waste my time.”

He froze for a moment, clearly surprised by her words, and in that moment she woke up.

Notes:

Just rewatched Revenge of the Sith and Solo.

Revenge of the Sith is surprisingly good (total nerfing of Amidala aside), arguably better than 7/8 (don't at me) and Solo was like a romp but we all expected more out of Daenerys (not in terms of acting or even story arc, just like her behavior doesn't appear to be internally consistent).

Also sorry this is taking me forever, I keep having different ideas or like trouble writing smut and things. I have like four or five more chapters written at least. Getting there. Thanks for your patience and encouragement :)

Chapter 7: If I Could Know Your Mind

She waited by her prized possession for his grandfather, wrapped in her cloak against the chill of her planet’s morning. 

She had fired off a couple messages to Finn and Rose, telling them to meet her before she left.  She hadn’t specified where she was going. 

Anakin appeared beside her, as she stared over the ravine at the bustle beyond.  “Like me, and my Master before me, you have already passed the trials through combat and unconventional means.  As you know, a Jedi must endure five trials to become a Knight.”

“Skill.  Courage.  Spirit.  Flesh.  Insight.” Her own voice sounded hollow and distant in her ears.  She knew Rose and Finn had come, she could feel their strength.  “You came here to tell me what I already know?”

He chuckled.  “Luke said you would not be happy.  He also faced his trials in an unconventional way.  But tradition exists for a reason.  Inside this ship is a training chamber.  You can modify it to recreate the chamber once used in the Jedi Temple.  If you wish to face the trials, you may.  But you will find them surmountable.”

She found herself unhappy.  She had been expecting hardship, had meditated and prepared for it. 

“Not every challenge must be a hardship,” Anakin told her steadily, his golden eyes boring into her.  “Though the one you are facing may be.”

Ah.  “Kylo Ren.”

“It is a challenge that would have once existed to qualify a Knight as Master.  Though, I do not think you need me to tell you that you already befit that title.”

She huffed, arms crossed, the Force high that made her calm but ethereal fading slightly.  “That’s enough of this conversation, thank you.”

“Commander Skywalker!” It was the pilot she had commissioned to rig the listless ship, one of Poe’s former squadron. “Oh.”

She turned just in time to see Rose and Finn gesturing angrily at the man, trying to keep him quiet.  “That’s alright,” she said easily.  She turned back to Anakin, who was smiling wryly.  “What?”

“Remembering the years I underestimated loyalty and prioritized power,” he shrugged.  “I don’t need to tell you again of the mistakes I made.  You won’t make them.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“But darkness awaits you,” he said, turning now to look at the ship.  “Be careful, Rey.  You live in the present, but you must be mindful of the future.”

She exhaled, feeling more like herself all of a sudden, less like the thing others saw when they looked at her.  “I am ready.”

“So was I, once,” he said ominously, folding his hands into his robe and then bowing slightly.  “May the Force be with you.”

She bowed back, power and a tinge of shadow making her neck tingle.  “Thank you, Master.”

She turned back to her friends, took the couple of respectful steps they had left between them.  “Jedi politics, very boring really.”

This made Rose and the pilot laugh, but Finn was too concerned to be amused.  “You can’t go alone.”

“She’s going to do it regardless of your opinion,” Rose was still laughing. 

“He is with an entire fleet!” Finn exclaimed, turning on Rose.  “What if he can’t control his men?  What if someone seeks revenge?”

This sobered Rose up quickly.  “They wouldn’t cross him.”

“I’d be fine even if they did,” Rey assured her. 

“You didn’t tell Poe?” Finn asked shrewdly.  “Worried he’d stop you?”

“I told him,” the pilot chimed in.  “Sorry, Commander.  I didn’t realize it was a secret.”

Rey rolled her eyes.  “He’ll survive.  I was going to comm him when I left.  Can you start working on the tractor beam, Harding?”

The pilot saluted and jogged off.

“Intelligence says your man is in the Ryloth system,” Rose informed her.  “Where did he want you to meet him?”

“There,” she murmured.  “Had some nonsense idea that his men should see me.  I committed treason, in their book.”

“Or an act of justified rebellion,” Rose reminded her.  “I am sure there were some loyal to the monster, but I have to imagine things are better now.”

“I haven’t really thought about his play.”  The future.  Something she needed to consider more.  “I’m powerful, and he respects power?  Snoke was weak, and therefore unfit to rule?”

“He has to have been successful with some sort of narrative, he has catapulted the Order back toward democracy,” Finn noted.  “I wouldn’t have thought it possible.”

“He’s quite charismatic,” Rey mumbled.

“Rey, this is still very dangerous,” Rose was deadly serious now.  “He might not be a threat to you, but he is still the Supreme Leader.  And aren’t there others like him?  Other . . . Knights of Ren?”

“Theoretically,” she murmured. 

The Force was silent. 

“I have to go,” she told them.  “I have a job to do.”

“Rebuilding the Jedi Order is not just a job,” Finn said angrily.  “It’s the undertaking of a lifetime.”

“Then I will be working for a long time,” she said calmly. 

“How do you know he will help you?”  Finn didn’t say it in the sharp way Poe would have.  He wanted to believe in her, but he was also afraid of Kylo Ren.

“He has to, or I will not keep the end of our bargain.”

“Finn, can you head off Poe, I want to speak with Rey for a moment,” Rose did not even look at him, her eyes never leaving Rey’s face.  “Please.”

Finn looked back and forth between them before skulking off in a huff. 

Rose said gently, “Do you want him?  You have a galaxy to choose from.  You don’t have to choose him.  Or anyone.”

The warmth radiating from this woman, her very soul, sank into Rey.  Her lifeforce was so bright, so strong.  She smiled in spite of the seriousness of the question.  “I am lucky to have a friend like you.”

“Rey, I am serious.  I am coming with you if you do not want this.”

“Don’t worry, Rose,” she thought of the future, the one where they stood together in a room, her fingers trailing through an indoor fountain and tangled in his.  “I do not just want it.  I can see it, as clear as I see you now.  I may not be ready to trust him, but I am prepared to face him.”  She took a deep breath, flashes of the night flitting through her mind, heat and abandon and his words etched in fire.  Her voice lowered.  “I’m even looking forward to it.”

“Be careful, Rey,” Rose said, echoing Anakin’s warning.  “But you also deserve to do what you want.”

Rey grinned at her friend, warmth spreading through her chest at the words of support. “I intend to.”

Rose grinned back.  “I hope that means what I think it means.”

Rey hugged her, suddenly overwhelmed. “Rose.  Thank you.  You help me remember that I’m not insane.”

“You’re the most sane person I know,” Rose promised.  “Hm.  Maybe I need more friends.”

Rey laughed and let her go, spying Poe over her shoulder.  “You do,” she said, but it came out clipped.  Poe’s mind was clear.  “Oh no.”

It was like Rose could see his mind too.  Her hand tightened on Rey’s arm.  “What can you do?”

Rey appreciated the simplicity of the question.  Rose was not misplacing a burden on her, not blaming her for this complication that had never been her fault.  She’d never encouraged Poe beyond treatment she would have given Finn.  And she loved Poe, in a way.  Having never had anyone to love before, she had attached herself quickly and securely to her family.  It felt good to care about so many people, to have them care about her in return.  To know that she didn’t need him.  She had made her own family. 

She wasn’t nothing.

And of course, her sudden unrest summoned him like a moth to a flame.

She immediately shut it all down, became still and serene.  A Jedi.  Untouched.  One with the Force. 

She motioned for Rose to stay silent before resuming her meditative pose, before turning to where Anakin had been only minutes before, where he was now standing, his hands clasped behind his back, his helmet on, his head bent. 

The bridge of a starship faded in behind him, and she said as his head snapped up, turning to see her.  “Now is not a good time.”

“She is not a fugitive, General,” his voice modulated, strangely calm.  He wasn’t calm.  Seeing her had surprised him, and he had been working on controlling his rage. She’d sped up the process. “She is a guest.”

Now Rey could see General Hux’s twisted sneer, feel the anger radiating off him in waves.  “Supreme Leader, I must remind you, if she really is as powerful as you say – ”

“She is not a threat to me or any of our men,” his voice had risen, out of the corner of her eye she saw a man at a console hunch closer to it. 

Meanwhile, Poe was approaching. 

She made a slight gesture at Rose, whose heart was beating out of her chest.  As much as her friend talked about Kylo Ren as if he were some teenage heartthrob, Rey knew that a shadow of doubt lived inside her.  That shadow had suddenly grown, twisted and ugly, into something that felt like fear.  Her friend was both perceptive and very brave. 

Rose turned, immediately went to head off Poe.  And, for now, he seemed focused on the problem presented by his General, not on Rey’s surroundings.

And a problem it was, now that Rey could feel Hux’s feelings, which were lashing out at his master like gale force winds. 

Hatred.  Jealousy.  Distrust.  Anger.  An edge of lust.

That was directed toward her. 

“Will she be staying aboard the ship?” Hux asked stiffly. 

“No,” Kylo Ren gritted out, and Rey could feel his anger continuing to rise. “But you will treat her with the same respect you show me while she is here.”

He’d caught the flicker of interest Hux had for Rey, he’d caught that his General had thought, “What could he see in this slip of a scavenger?”  But Hux had followed Snoke, was deeply magnetized by power, craved it, breathed it, begrudgingly admitted to himself that Kylo Ren had the ability to wield the power that he could not. 

Saw the attractiveness in a woman who could wield great power.  Saw Rey, saw her in both a delicate and hard way, in his mind saw the softness of her features, but also the lean muscle and lithe grace built from hours of hard work. 

Rey couldn’t pull herself out – she realizes now that he shielded his thoughts from her often, or that he did not fixate on the planes of her body, does not want her in the way a man, Hux, might want her – perhaps he thinks of her as an embodiment of power, and though his need is deep and unwavering, his desire to possess her is less about her and more about what she is. 

She spirals.

Hux is thinking for a moment, distracted by the Supreme Leader’s words, snippets of flesh and moans and his hand grabbing her ass, palming her breast, pinning her to a wall and the woman he sees in his mind likes it. 

She would.  If it were him.  She’d never seen such a thought in his mind.

Rose, her friend, her savior, snapped her out of it, pulling her from a depthless mind and back into the present, sunlit meadow.

“Rey!”  She had stumbled, the onslaught had unnerved her.  Rose had rushed back, grasped her by the arm, held her up.  “Are you well?”

“Yes.” The word came out stronger than she expected.  Half a moment had passed. 

Kylo Ren was hissing a threat in General Hux’s direction, his back ram rod straight, his hands clasped so tightly behind his back that the leather of his gloves was creased and surely biting into his flesh. 

She was not sure what he had felt from her. 

She was suddenly unsure of her power to read him. 

Back in the sun, with Rose, who believed so much in her, she was able to steady herself, to think that she could have some certainty.  In the light she had seen in him.  In his desire. 

He said things, that made her feel like his desire was not just power hungry, but carnal.  Perhaps he simply voiced such thoughts, perhaps he was careful with her or he did not daydream while with her. 

But he’d created that daydream in the stream. 

She tilted her head back, feeling the sun on her face, relaxed her shoulders.

She knew.

Rose squeezed her arm, reminding her where she was. 

She straightened, Poe’s hand on her shoulder.  Her eyes snapped open. 

Oh no.

“Rey,” his voice was strangled, jagged, shadows under his eyes.  “You’re going to meet him?”

“Yes.”  Her voice is still strong.  She looked over Poe’s shoulder, where he is still standing, stock still, itching to choke his General but restrained.  “I am.  Don’t worry.”  She kissed Poe on the cheek.

Flashpoint.

His anger is as strong as her voice, an inferno with complexity and depth.  Burning for so long that the heat is impossibly strengthened, the edges are cooler and the colors are red and orange and blue.

Pain and longing and frustration and jealousy and desperation. 

He had been controlling himself when she appeared.  Her reaction to Hux had infuriated him, now Poe was there, his emotions painted across his face, no telethapy needed. 

It hit her with such a force, Poe melted away in the space between one breath and the next.  He did not speak – could not, with Hux still there – but the word is clear as day. 

Please.

The word is laced with the dance of the flames, the need and hunger and fury that was inside him.  It beckons her, and he thinks, I want you.  I’ve told you.  These men are nothing compared to me. 

She can’t see him behind the mask, and she feels blind, these imageless thoughts sweeping through her, with such power and drive.

Perhaps she is attracted to power too. 

Poe hadn’t noticed her distraction, it was so quick, and lips brushing her cheek in return shifted her focus. 

But he wasn’t finished.  I regret that I only had fleeting moments with you.  That I barely touched you.  That Snoke had his hands on you.  That I didn’t listen to you.

“Rey.” The edge of Poe’s voice was so sharp, so jarring. “Please don’t do this.”

The edge of his thoughts is just as sharp.  In the elevator, you were so tempting, hands bound, so trusting, I could have done anything to you. It took everything in me not to take advantage. Everything.

She tried to swallow, tried to give Poe a kind smile, but she is shaking slightly, she is breathless and flush with his heat.  “Poe.  I have to.”

I’ve thought about what I should have done to you, what I could have done to you in that elevator so many times.  Come to me.  I’ll show you. 

I’m coming, she mentally snapped. 

You will.  Amusement, desire, that truly annoying gloating.

They both saw it only a half a heartbeat in advance, so quick was Poe’s decision. 

Rey didn’t have time to pull away.  She heard him, muffled by the modulator, torn from him, a low and furious, “No!”  But Poe was kissing her.  It was fine. 

She was keyed up. For the span of his strangled growl, she breathed it in, enjoying a touch for what it was.  Then she pulled back, as he was barking “Silence!” to Hux. 

Now you’ll know, the fury sank into her bones.  You’ll see how he is nothing when you’re with me.

She exhaled.  We'll see.

She cleared her throat.  “Poe – ”

His eyes were clear, jaw set.  “Something for you to think about.”

“Thank you.  But I think you know I’ve made up my mind.”

The incoherent rage settled at these words, eddied. Please. 

“I will be here when you get back,” the determination had not wavered.  “If you need me, I will be there.”

Please.

“That is very kind,” she reached for Rose, who was looking aghast.  “Thank you all for bearing with me.”

Please.

Now he was issuing orders, ones that did not pertain to her, and she was relieved.  She felt him pulling away, trying to break the connection.  He wasn’t successful. 

Poe walked her to where Harding was working on the rig.  She had to endure him pacing in the background like a caged tiger, valiantly trying to pay attention to his men and not to her, for what felt like eternity before the connection broke. 

Rose was waiting, holding a few things for her, shifting from side to side.  “Is he gone?” She hissed as Rey finally relaxed.

“That obvious?”

“Just to me,” Rose whispered, trying not to draw the attention of Poe or Finn or Harding.  “He freaked out?”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Rey muttered.  “He said Poe is nothing compared to him.”

Rose stifled a laugh.  “Men.  They’re all the same.”

This startled an actual laugh from her.  Huh.  “For a moment I was doubting that he was – but you’re right.  He is much the same.”

“What are you going to do about this ship?” Rose asked, turning to take in the craft. “It’s terrifying.”

“Once I get it open, I am hopeful that it will have the curricula that I need to start teaching younglings,” she admitted.  “Wait.  Terrifying?”

Rose blushed.  “Because you can’t open it.”

Rey stared at her.  “There are many things I cannot do.”

Rose rolled her eyes.  “Remember how you changed the bioclimate of an entire planet last week?  Good talk.”

For a moment, Rey reconsidered bringing Rose with her.  She’d rather enjoy glaring down General Hux, telling stories about Rey that Rey found unremarkable or, in this case, accidental.

But.  She desperately needed to see him alone. 

“I leave my reputation in your capable hands,” she snorted, clasping Rose on the shoulder.  “Do not hesitate to contact me.”

“And if something goes wrong?”

“Hard to see the future is.  Always changing.”

And yet, on her planet, as calm as the lake her river flowed into. 

“If you stay here, you’ll be fine.”

Something prickled at the back of her neck, and a segmented hallway she had seen once in a vision flashed into her consciousness. 

Her hand reflexively tightens on her lightsaber – the spark of that vision – and she is there, in an echoing expanse of darkness with a harsh breath in her ears and the cold of a reactor chamber in her bones.  The blade hums in the darkness and it is met by light stained by blood and ruin. 

A trap.

“Release your anger.  Only your hatred can destroy me.”

She refocused on Rose, a pain that could only be Luke’s pulling at her chest, stealing her breath. 

A warning.

“But.  Please stay here until I return.”

She felt Rose’s confidence in her spring forward like a blaster bolt with deadly aim.  It obliterated the remnants of the thin atmosphere from the past in her chest.  “I will.”

She glanced back at the ship, and something from the vision returned, the feeling of darkness and metal and ice. 

She shivered.  It was time to leave.

Harding had finished the rig.  He and another pilot were performing a final flight check on her small craft, “Are you certain about going alone?” This time it was Finn.  “And you won’t take the Falcon?”

The mention of the Millennium Falcon did give her a twinge of guilt, like hearing Han scream his son’s name across an insurmountable chasm, wider than a simple, deadly, reactor shaft.  A rend torn in the psyche of a child by an evil his father had not imagined he would have to face twice in his lifetime.

 

A Sith by any other name is still a Sith.

 

“The Falcon will only serve to anger the Order,” she breathed, the feeling of loss brought by the memory and the Force twining about her friends present and pointed.  “And I need to go alone.”

 

“Not even an honor guard?”

 

She had considered.  An honor guard would show power, deference, command.

 

But going alone would also command respect.  And an honor guard would hinder her ability to be with him, alone.

 

She didn’t need to put on a show.

 

She remained mindful, but nothing stirred now, no warning with respect to the path she was on.

 

“Alone.”  She repeated.  Poe’s jaw tightened.

 

She’d left it too long.  People were starting to come out of the hangar, perhaps heard that she was leaving. 

 

She turned to ascend the gangway a second before Harding called out that she was clear, shrugging off yet another query as to whether she was quite sure she didn’t need a copilot.

 

She smiled down at her friends as the gangway closed.  “May the Force be with you.”

 

Notes:

I watched Rogue One again and I once thought that the movie was narratively flawed but other than being a bit rushed it has all the hallmarks of a great Star Wars movie - the Force, family drama, the might of true evil, and a Skywalker. Haven't watched the Mandalorian yet, but looking forward to it.

Next chapter finally merits an explicit rating. TBD.

Chapter 8: I Won't Wait Anymore

Flashes of the past and future washed over her as she meditated and listened to more of the holocrons Luke had left her during the long hours in space. 

Her computer trilled two hours from his fleet.  She dropped from hyperspace by an uninhabited planet where she had decided to leave the Jedi craft in orbit, cloaked.  She spent the remainder of the journey stretching, moving slowly through different forms.  Learning.  Thinking. 

How easily this pace now came to her, when months ago she had worn herself to exhaustion just to sleep.

She came out of hyperspace inches from his flagship.

Almost immediately, the crew went into red alert – she could see the lights and hear the proximity alarm, the shouting, without even exerting herself. 

She hung in front of the main viewport as he blazed into her consciousness with the subtlety of a juggernaut.  Just as when she had seen him for the elections, her reflex was to reach out, feel him, he was close. 

She did not.  But she could still see him.

He’d been awaiting her arrival, the set of his shoulders, his hands clasped behind his back in a way she knew so well, on the bridge.

He had not flinched. He had called off the alert moments after it had begun.

The radio crackled, but she ignored the words, listening to him as he commanded his men to stand down, as he ordered a bay open. 

She had already started towards it.

She rose as her ship piloted itself into the hangar, barely needing to think to steer it clear, securing her lightsaber to her waist, grabbing her small pack, adjusting her cloak.  She was concentrating on the threats around her – but all was still.

Barring his maelstrom. 

“Master Jedi,” crackled over the radio.  “Apparently you’ve already discerned where to land.  You are clear.”

Rey resisted the urge to sneer at Hux’s voice.  That man was the architect of genocide and his day of reckoning would come.

Not today.  Today she had to play nice. 

She felt him moving from the bridge to the hangar, his life force sparking through the ship.  Now, with nothing to distract her, she opened her mind.

He was guarded, more so than usual.  The anger was lurking below the surface, but his resolve was strong.  He could not completely contain his smugness that she was here, nor could he contain his desire, which licked at the edges of his thoughts, her mind.   

She was calm and still, but it was difficult.  The fire called to her, an old friend. 

She would follow his lead, if it suited her. 

And if it suited her, she was ready to crack the door in her mind that she had been striving to shut.

Anticipation. 

She flicked her wrist to engage the landing sequence and lower the gangway.  Another thought, and her flight path was erased. 

A squadron awaited her, forming a corridor from her landing pad, in the middle of which General Hux waited, anger and distaste – she knew better – furrowing his brow. 

He strode out into the hangar. 

It took everything in her to remain standing, motionless, in the mouth of her ship.  Here he was, nothing separating them.  Not leagues of space, or plexiglass or flames.  His presence pushed against her, insistent, sure. 

Nothing like the throne room.  Nothing like the fights under the sun of her planet.  She’d forgotten what it was like, close to him.

The way he walked, so confident and sure, here in the now, those broad shoulders, straining against the fabric of his uniform – but of course there was the hated helmet.

The Force rippled between them, and she inhaled carefully.  Guarding herself, because seeing him had stolen her breath.  She wanted him to follow through on his promises, wanted him. 

Focus.  The ocean roiled.

She waited until her ship had settled to sweep down the gangway, shutting down the engine and running the cooling sequence.  She felt a ripple of surprise, bordering on consternation from him as he realized she had been piloting the ship. 

She felt a flash of annoyance.  He had underestimated her. 

The fire burned her throat as he neared.  She would make him pay. 

Hux joined him as he strode toward her, so she stopped when she reached the hangar floor.  The vibrations of the Supremacy trembled through her, and she inhaled, tasted the confusion, the resolution of his men.  Some were terrified of her.  Others were hopeful or disdainful or skeptical.  Grateful. 

Hux was still deeply disgruntled.  He inclined his head.  “Master Skywalker.  Welcome.”

She ignored him, staring at the mask. 

Skywalker.

“May I present the Supreme Leader, Kylo Ren.”

He had the audacity to bow, and she felt tension and shock emanating through the squadron.  The shock was not quite as strong as she thought it could be.  “My lady,” he breathed through the modulator. 

She wanted to slash that stupid helmet to bits.  She wanted his skin beneath her finger tips.

“Ready my ship,” he told Hux, who saluted.  “This way,” he rumbled, gesturing her forward. 

She matched his stride through the hangar, her hands firmly tucked into her sleeves, where they wouldn’t do anything rash.  She couldn’t see the helmet around the edge of her hood, and for this she was grateful. 

None of the soldiers were following them, so she breathed, “I hate the helmet.”

She saw his fingers twitch out of the corner of her eye as they exited through the corridor at the back of the hangar.  The back of her neck tingled.  Her focus was straying, her emotions strong and steady and true. 

I thought it a necessary precaution, in front of my men.  The timbre of his thoughts was wry.  I did not want them to see how you affect me.

“How do I affect you?” she breathed again.  Too quiet to hear, but of course he still did.

He rounded a corner, stopped before the door to a lift.  “In every way.”  The words were harsh, grating to her ears.  “Right now, I am being crushed by the weight of your indifference.”

So she was better at shielding her mind than she had been.  Indifference?  Even with his helmet on, all she could think of was running her fingers through his hair, seeing his expressive eyes and frustrating mouth.  Digging her nails into his shoulders.  Feeling his lips against her throat.  The fire was making it hard for her to breath around it. 

She did not move a muscle, remembering what he had said about their last trip in an elevator.

I could have done anything to you. 

He held the door for her, and she entered. 

As the lift hissed shut, she realized she didn’t want to wait a moment longer.

With a twist of her fingers, his helmet was floating – she heard his grunt of surprise – she was turning, drinking in his features for a moment, his warmth, the desire curling toward her like rays of star shine.  “Perhaps you can change my mind,” she murmured, stepping into him, latching onto his shoulders.

Being with him was intoxicating her.  Knowing he was really here, beneath her palms.  That he couldn’t leave in the blink of an eye.  It was enough to make her reckless.

He was smirking at her.  She leaned up to kiss that right off his face. 

She’d surprised him – his breath hitched, and she had to work his mouth open with her own, swiping her tongue deep into his mouth.  She sighed, threading her fingers into his hair.  His fingers burned her at her waist, then trailing up her back as he pulled her closer, as he nipped her bottom lip.

The lift dinged.

She finished the kiss, drawing away to see him stumble slightly, inhale, his thick lashes shuttering for a moment.  He raised his gaze back to hers and she had never seen him look this way before – stunned?  Blissed?  Grateful?  Worshipful?

“You’ll have to do better than that.”  She turned, letting his helmet fall to the floor, and exited the lift. 

He was intrigued, hungry.  Furious that she had landed the first blow.  “I will,” his voice was cool and steady now, determined.  Each word was deliberate, measured.  “I will make you beg.”

She’d wanted to gain the upper hand, but now she felt flushed and needy and she hoped she hadn’t miscalculated.  She didn’t doubt his resolve.  She drew a steadying breath, sank back into her ocean. 

Challenging him was a dangerous game.

He had retrieved and returned his helmet to its place when he exited and caught her by the elbow.  She looked up into the unseeing face, not hiding her twinge of displeasure.  He took a step into her and her back hit the wall next to the closing door.  Risking leaning around him to look down the corridor – what if someone saw them? – but he immediately had her attention as he gripped her chin, a finger traced her lips.  She wished he didn’t feel the need to wear the helmet.  It was a Sith’s scare tactic.  An ode to a past that had died with Snoke.  And hadn’t he said, let the past die?

“What you do to me,” the modulator said, and even his touch felt artificial, encased in leather.  “We have to get off this ship.”

She stepped sideways and raised her hood, her heart pounding, but the moment gone. 

And no need to tell him.  He knew.  She could sense it in the frustration coating the air between them.

He wanted to touch her, to place his hand on the small of her back, or the very least her shoulder.  He didn’t like that she had told him not to touch her in public.

He was annoyed that she had kissed him when he would not have because they were on his flagship.

There was something else troubling him, the flash of consternation from earlier had remained.  She couldn’t untangle it, and the more she pushed at it, the greater his agitation grew.

He growled, “Stop.  Please.”

It felt like it had to do with imbalance.  Equals.  She withdrew.  Instead, she gave him the coordinates to the ship, which he silently programmed into a device on his wrist.

It felt like eternity, getting to the hangar.  The tension between them was growing steadily, and she was starting to catch flashes of thoughts from him that made her breath quicken.

He’d sensed her disquiet as she’d lost herself in Hux’s mind. 

He thought of her moaning.

He remembered the taste of her skin.

He thought of making her pay for the kiss she had stolen.

Snippets of flesh, of intent, enough to tease.

Enough to prove her very wrong.

Finally, the Silencer appeared in its hangar, and she breathed a sigh of relief, the tension was choking her, consuming her. 

But here there were more troops, more men whose emotions overwhelmed and smothered her.

He walked a step behind her, and she felt strain winding through him, through the hangar.

She stopped abruptly, put a hand out onto his arm – she heard his pulse stutter, he growled –

She caused a blaster to misfire, the Force moving through her as a reflex, the premonition quick and true.  She turned to stare at the man, not ten feet away.

Her fingers tightened on his arm, reflexively, possessively.  “He was aiming for you,” she murmured.

She let go, kept walking, disinterested in how he would handle the inconvenience of treason.  She was razor focused now, trying to discern if any others had his death in their hearts – a thought that made her furious.  She heard the scuffle, the man being led away, and by the time she had reached the gangway of his craft, he was once again at her shoulder.

As the gangway closed, she relaxed, away from the stares and blasters of his men.  Away from the danger, which had affected her more than she realized.  She paused to breathe, release her anger – he was fine.  She had stopped that man from hurting him.

If the danger hadn’t distracted her so, she would have felt his intention before his helmet clanged against the ground and his arm snaked around her waist.

The world faded away as he drew her to him, inhaling her scent next to her left ear.  One hand splayed across her stomach, pressing into her, huge and demanding.  His other hand dragged up her chest, his long fingers pushing up her neck, tilting it back.  Her hood fell.  He was huge and solid and warm behind her.  She swallowed, feeling the pressure of his index finger against her throat. 

The meditative ocean had gone when she relaxed.  Her kiss had opened the door she had desperately been keeping shut, and being in his arms like this was both exhilarating and nerve wracking. 

She could see his dark hair out of the corner of her eye as he nosed along the expanse of skin he had just revealed, and as the gangway clanged shut, she had half a moment to hope that no one had seen her wrapped in his arms like this. 

But what it was like being in his arms like this. 

She was having trouble controlling her breathing.  Every nerve felt like it was firing, and his fingers burned like lasers.

She heard the autopilot engage as he purred against her skin, “My savior.  I feel that you do care for me.”

She licked her dry lips, and his teeth pressed into her neck.  He sucked hard, and her desire flared around them like smoke.  She knew he could feel it, but still her breath settled, and she snapped, “You wish.”

“Allow me to show my gratitude,” his voice rumbled through his chest, vibrating against her back, and in this precarious position, it made her shiver.

There was a moment on the precipice, where she might have pulled away, and she knew he would have let her, the tension spun around them, and she felt a real nervousness from him, that she might walk away. 

She licked her lips.  He was asking.  “You do owe me,” she told him. 

He released a breath she hadn’t known he was holding, and his grip tightened, his emotions flowing through her so sharply and he was here, next to her, it was jarringly different than her dreams.  Like seeing the sunrise approaching across the dunes opposed to standing under its glare at noon. 

His fingers moved up her neck to grasp her tilted jaw, his thumb dragging on her lower lip.  “I will give you pleasure no other could,” he murmured against her ear.  “I can feel your desire calling to me.”  His thumb against her lips distracted her, he was pressing into her mouth, and he had removed his glove, his skin was rough against her tongue. 

His fingers grasped her sudden and roughly, making her cry out.  He had quickly dove beneath her clothing and a finger slipped between her folds, spearing her with both pain and pleasure.  She arched against him, against his hands pinning her to him, and her breath sounded desperate in her own ears as he curled a second finger into her, eliciting a rush of heat.

“You’re more exquisite than I imagined, at my mercy, panting for me,” he growled against her skin, and she bit his thumb, losing herself as heat curled through her stomach at every devastating stroke. 

It was better than she had imagined too. 

She reached behind her blindly, needing to feel him, and her fingers sank into his hair.  She tightened her grip, holding him against her neck and digging her other hand into his thigh, making him hiss, ravenous, thrilled.  His fingers worked deeper, and she gasped again.

“Yes,” his voice was dark and his desire churned through her like the maelstrom he was.  “Now.  Beg.”

She was not so far gone.  “No,” she rasped against his thumb. 

He pushed farther into her mouth and dug into her wetness at once, and she instinctively swirled her tongue around his thumb, the heat tightening.  She felt his will stutter, his hunger soar and hitch as she affected him.  But he growled again, “Beg.”

She pressed her teeth sharply against him, trying to gain clarity, trying to distract him.  “No.”

“I will stop,” he threatened darkly, and his fingers withdrew slowly, so slowly, and his breath was even and infuriatingly calm.

“No!” She said harshly, without thinking, the absence of his fingers leaving her aching, she twisted against him, trying to catch some friction.

His hand traveled upward to a breast, palming her.  She tried not to groan.  He pushed harder against her jaw, forcing her head back against his shoulder as he licked her neckline at a maddening slow pace.  “You don’t want me to stop?” He breathed, rolling her nipple between his fingers, and she couldn’t think, just pushed back against him, a moan escaping. 

“No,” she gasped, on the edge of a sob.  “Don’t stop.”

“Then beg,” he demanded, his voice deep and hungry as he pinched her nipple again, the pain screwing into her like lightning. 

He twisted his fingers, and it stole any rational thought.  “Please,” she gasped, her nails biting into his scalp without care, and she felt his wolfish grin in her bones.  “Please.”

He chuckled against her neck, and it shuddered through her, as his hand traveled back down her stomach and to the apex of her thighs.  He swept his finger across her opening carefully before plunging back inside.  “You want me,” he said darkly.  “Say it.”  She gasped again as his thumb found her clit and circled slowly.  “Say it!”

“I want you,” she echoed on a moan, never had she wanted something more, never had he wanted something more.

“Only me.  Say it.”

“You!”  He added a third finger and she was at the edge, he was just dragging his thumb against her so carefully, so slowly as he thrust into her roughly. “Damn you, you smug -”

“I’m not convinced, Rey,” he purred, licking her earlobe and easing the pressure, causing her to groan in dismay.  His fingers stilled, and she bucked her hips against him, feeling how hard he was against her ass, and how immovable his arms were, bands of steel. 

“No, please,” she begged, trying to get him to move through sheer force of words.  Feeling his desire to please her sharply flavor the air, his ecstasy.  She egged him on.  “Please, I want you.  More.”

He licked a hot stripe below her ear.  “More?”

“Yes!” She felt wild, frenzied.  He was stringing her out, his emotions choking her as his fingers pressed into her throat, making it even harder to breathe.

He bit down against the juncture of her neck and shoulder and her nails scrabbled at him, his thumb pulling her lips apart further as he dragged his fingers tortuously through her folds.  “You’re going to come for me.  You’re going to scream.  Keep begging.”

She was happy to, if it kept him thrusting in her, in the midst of this inferno.  “Please, come on!”

“You’re gorgeous desperate for me.”  He increased his pace, finally giving her what she wanted, and she bent back against him, on her toes, the wave cresting in her.  “Come for me, my dear,” he gritted out, clearly feeling it in her, satisfied.  And she did let out a hoarse cry, bucking uselessly against his hand as he stroked her, sending shocks of pleasure to ride against her.  His desire and determination and possession soared through her, tingling against her clit and her stomach clenched.  “Yes,” he breathed.  “You’re mine.”

His lips slanted against hers in a brutal kiss, and she could barely hold on as the aftershocks rode through her, like nothing she had ever felt before.  She was almost crying, from the intensity of the orgasm he’d wrung from her.  He bit her, and she gave one last spent moan into his mouth, his words, his proximity, making her head spin.

She collapsed against him as her knees gave out, exhausted, her hold on her meditative state completely gone.  Sleep.  He released her mouth, catching her, and she was cradled by the warmth of a sand dune.  Her mind felt hazy as he lifted her effortlessly.  “Rey,” he growled, but she was falling into darkness.

Chapter 9: Would Have Done, Will Do

The hallway in the clouds beckoned.

Ice and death and breathless howling wind.

“There is no escape.”

She woke with a gasp, her shoulder jerking against something hard.

Completely disoriented, she tried to sit up, but found herself half pinned beneath – at the brush of skin, heat arresting her, the night before came rushing back, and she groaned at her lack of self-control.  Or her reckless abandon.  That made it sound equally irresponsible and intentional.

Him.  A bonfire, awake and smug.  Of course.

But hadn’t she dreamed of this – of waking up without having to worry, without having to think about where he was, because he was beside her?

It had been worth it, she thought.  But still.  An enemy, in her bed.

“Good morning, my dear,” he purred in her ear, his deep voice rumbling against her back.

She tried to twist, but one of his legs was tangled over hers, and a large arm encircled her, holding her flush against him.  Like laying against the sand under the desert sun, warm and radiant.  She relaxed, feeling his chest move against her back as he exhaled, inhaled quickly, unsteadily.  She could see all of the muscles in his forearm, part of his bicep, relaxed, still defined and sure and bone white.  He must have felt her gaze, because he flexed suddenly, drawing her closer, his palm pressing against her hip with an air of restraint, promise. 

Rey’s voice almost wavered.  “Where are we?” she murmured, the effort of moving suddenly not worth it.

“My bed,” he rumbled, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her shoulder.  She couldn’t help a shiver.  Affection.  Intimacy.  “Where I hope to get you to scream my name this time.”

Heat warmed her cheeks, and she thought, of course he had to go and say something like that, the cocky guttersnipe, but she still felt languid and relaxed, more relaxed then she had in months.  She stretched a bit, points of contact against him numerous and overwhelming and luxurious. 

Tempted to stay here.

But, then – she scrabbled out from beneath him with effort, gaining more clarity when she turned to face him, just out of reach.  He looked stormy with her sudden absence. “Did you make me sleep?” she gritted out.

He had taken his uniform and shirt off to sleep with her.  He hoisted himself up on one arm, muscles rippling, and for a split second she was distracted.  A smirk bloomed on his lips, knowing where she was staring.  “Barely.  You desperately needed sleep.”

“You could have asked!” She exclaimed, rubbing her forehead, taking stock of her surroundings.  “I need the ’fresher.”

She bought herself precious moments to think, remembering every word and touch from last night. 

She’d positively crumbled beneath his skilled hands and dark words.

She thought that she didn’t mind, though she was a touch embarrassed at how quickly she had caved – it had felt like losing, though really, what had she lost?  He had given her exactly what she had wanted.  And it had been better than she expected. 

Without trying, she could feel his pleasure and ease in the other room, the strength of his emotions so much clearer this close.  Also a hint of regret that he might have upset her.

Which he had.  The idiot.

She centered herself, letting the Force flow through her.  She felt stronger, grounded.  Being with him had cleared any tension from her body, her mind.  But now it was coming back.  She needed to focus on her mission.

He was still half-laying on the bed, waiting for her, his bare chest gorgeously chiseled and his hair mussed.  He stared at her with baleful eyes as she returned, trying to gauge her mood.  She had slipped back into a lake, calm, peaceful.  Content, but unmoving.  “Come back to bed.”

She crossed her arms.  “I did not agree to share a bed with you.”

“Oh?”  His lips curled back from his teeth.  “You agreed to stay with me in my quarters for one night.  Here we are.”

“Now it is day,” she was not certain, but she felt like she had slept for over eight hours.  “Time for you to uphold your end of the bargain.”

His eyes were hooded as his gaze licked her like flames, his tongue wetting his lips.  “Did I please you last night.”

She gritted her teeth, frustration bleeding through the still waters.  Not even a question.  “You know you did.”

He leaned sideways on his elbows, the corded muscles in his neck straining, drawing her eye.  She wanted to bite him there.  Mark him, like he had marked her.  “Let me please you again.”

She did not mean to falter, but he somehow managed to send a ripple of the intense pleasure, the cresting wave from the night before echoing back through time and space to hit her with gale force strength.

She stumbled closer to him, caught up in it.  She had no real reason to refuse him, beyond her annoyance with his heavy handedness, and she could remain angry with him for that later.  She could live in this moment where his promise was written across a face stark with need.

She knew he would press his advantage, and he did, allowing his desire to darken the air between them, flaring white hot and making the hair on her arms stand on end.  His long fingers curled against the sheets.

His eyes bore into her, and she felt like she couldn’t breathe.  Rey wasn’t sure if this was a good idea, but his desire was pulling her, forcing the door in her mind open even wider, allowing thoughts she tried not to think escape.

“I would have tied you to our bed if I had to.”

“Yes,” he hissed, teeth flashing white and bared, and the intensity of his gaze strengthened, honing in on what had slipped past her defenses.

She moved preternaturally to deter him, to hide her feelings.  She was on him in less than a heartbeat, leaning across his body to kiss him fiercely, her hands spearing through his hair.  She had no leverage, her knees sinking into his mattress.

No.  She knew what she wanted.  She wanted this.  The feeling of him, his energy, his life force thrumming through her with an intensity she couldn’t feel from light years away.  She could barely think past the exhilaration of the power filling her cells to the brim.  Time seemed to slow between one touch and the next, despite her determined, urgent pace.  She bit his lip, sucking it between her teeth and he tasted like coffee on her tongue.  His hair felt so soft beneath her fingers.  She gripped into its darkness, tilting his head back, her mind drunk with power and throwing caution to the wind.  She didn’t want to think, she just wanted this heat to consume her, she wanted him to moan like she had – she kissed down his scar, scraped her teeth against his jaw, finding a spot just below on his neck and sucking it like she had his mouth – she had never felt anything like this before.  A time or two, fast, bodies moving, this was all she knew.

She bit down harder and finally, finally, she drew a strangled moan from his throat, tortured, his massive hands that fascinated her so much slid up her legs, digging in deep.  She felt a thrill of craving, his moan echoing in her ears – she had done that to him.  He grasped the backs of her thighs, pulling her closer, and she half fell on top of him as his fingers squeezed into her again and she had to pause for breath.

He had not been deterred.

She felt it in him, he would not have her distract him, he would get exactly what he wanted, because he knew her and, “I know what you want,” he groaned as he surged up, using his grip to flip her so she sprawled on his bed, wondering suddenly why it was for two – “Of course I built this for you,” he murmured as she bounced, settled against the mattress, his thighs against her own, pinning her.  “A place where I could give you what you want.”

“Which is?” But it came out breathless, and edged, not at all unemotional.

“You want me to tie you down,” he breathed, looming above her, giving her a fine view of his broad shoulders and huge pecs. He leaned only slightly, one hand had moved to her waist and his fingers brushed her cheek.  She turned unwittingly to the touch, craving the heat, the rush.  “You want it fast and rough, to lose yourself.”

A wicked smile spread across her lips, couldn’t help the molten heat spilling out of her eyes as she reached up and dragged him down for another kiss, arching her neck up off the bed to lick deep into his mouth, not being gentle – she didn’t want gentle – as her nails dug into his scalp, his shoulder.  She felt him shudder against her as he grasped her wrist, driving it into the bed as he tried to keep his balance, his other hand slinking up her side as she devoured him.  He circled a nipple with his thumb, making her jolt in surprise.

She felt something else curl around her wrist.

Then her hand was tugged from his hair and she was surprised enough that she pulled away – but he only followed her, driving her back against the bed, hungry and hard and biting.

“I’m going,” he growled, nipping at her lips, “only as fast as I want.”

She twisted her hips experimentally, feeling how much he wanted her through his lose slacks and her leggings.  He snarled and reared back.

She tried to trail him, and froze.

He had followed through.

Her breath and pulse quickened, involuntarily twisting her shoulders as she tested the cords holding her arms splayed out from her on either side.  She now recognized the flare in the Force around them for what it had been – she had barely heeded it, wrapped up in him.

For a moment, panic rose, and he rocked back on his heels.  “Do you trust me?” he asked seriously.

No.

But, right here, right now?

She relaxed, thinking, I trust him for this, and the slight sliver of panic was gone, burned out by her desire quickly resurfacing.

He looked slightly uncertain, but starved, so determined as he gnawed the inside of his cheek, staring at her.

She rolled a shoulder again, her breasts rising and falling heavily – intentionally.  The uncertainty burned out too, and he looked ready to pounce.

“Supreme Leader,” she exhaled, teasing him, not answering his loaded question, watching as a fist clenched in effort against his heavy thigh.  The heat against her skin spiked and she knew she’d got him.  “You’ve captured your Jedi.  What will you do with me?”

His lips twisted in a smirk.  “I’m going to make you pay for running from me.”

“I’ve never run,” she retorted.  “It’s not my fault you’re blind.”

His long fingers gripped her chin, tilting it up.  She couldn’t see, but she thought she heard the rasp of a knife.  “I’ll make you pay for that, too,” he breathed, leaning so close that she felt his breath against her lips.  But his fingers were firm and she couldn’t seem to leverage herself up to meet his lips.  She wet hers, and her tongue just nicked his own for a moment. Her exhale was harsher than she intended, sounding needy in her throat.  His smirk widened.

Cool metal played against her skin, and now she realized that he was making short work of her top – the knife sliced through the linen, and she gasped too late, “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to see every inch of your skin, my Jedi,” he purred, fabric ripping.

“I don’t have a spare tunic!” she hissed.

“Good,” he growled, ripping the cloth from her skin and flinging it off the bed.  His weight collapsed slightly so that he was on top of her, his bare chest against hers.  She clenched her fists, trying to rub against him, pushing up as best she could, and her nipples brushed against his, prickling and she thought, I’ve lost it.  Whatever game.  He’s won again.

“You’ll have to wear one of mine.” His kiss was deep, possessive, before he backed away, dizzying.  His eyes were burning with need as he suddenly rocked his hips against hers and she gasped.  “Everyone will see.”  A slow roll of her hips and she couldn’t help her strangled moan.  He bent down, bit her lip, growling into her mouth as his hands found her breasts, “He’ll see.”

It took her a moment, to process what he’d said as he caressed her, distracting her, and all that pale skin was on display, how she wished to leave marks down his back, on his throat so that he would see them when he looked in the mirror tomorrow.

Though he already saw her every time he looked in the mirror, in the slash she’d left across his face.

His possessiveness was leeching into her, catching hers. She bared her teeth against it.  “He won’t find out,” she hissed.  “No one will.”

“I want the whole universe to know that you belong with me,” he rasped, his lips traveling down her throat, whispering over bare skin.  “That I finally found you.”  His lips closed around a nipple and her inhale was sharp as she strained against him, the restraints barely a feeling against her arm guards.

He bit her, his teeth a revelation and she couldn’t stop the sharp cry from passing her lips.  His skin against hers was driving her wild, she felt unhinged, out of control.  Heat curled through her abdomen, and she bucked against him, feeling the hard ridge of his cock drag against her.

Trapped.  He had her.

She licked her lips.  She liked that.

“That I am the one allowed to worship you.”  A hand clasped firmly in her hair as he yanked her head back, and she felt so vulnerable, spread out before him.  “That I may do anything I want to you, and you’d only beg me for more.”

“No one can know,” she hissed again.  “But yes, you have me.”

“I want that flyboy to know that he can never touch you again,” he said savagely.  He was kissing her neck, and then suddenly bit down hard, just as he rocked against her, shooting hurt and longing through her as she cried out.  He suckled against the mark, bringing blood to the surface as she thrashed futilely against him.

She was so close to the edge, she could feel it, but he merely tugged on her hair harder, sank his teeth in deeper, going still.  “Damn you, move!” she gasped.

He slowly let go of her hair, stroking her cheek as his gaze met hers and he gave a final lick to her bruised skin.  “He’ll see it,” he breathed.  “He’ll know that I had you beneath me, that I had my hands on you – ” he was back to caressing her breasts, and she snarled at him impatiently, wordlessly.  “That you want me.”

“I’ll tell him that I was unsatisfied,” he was making her exasperated with need.  “I will see if he can do better.”

He growled, sinking his fingers into her roughly, twice, three times,  and she was so wet and tense she tumbled right over the edge with a hoarse cry, his fingers jolting her through little aftershocks as she trembled against him, the heat flushing through her, every place he touched her a hot pin prick and she shook, it was too much, she wanted him to kiss her, but he had drawn back slightly, a fierce look of satisfaction on his face, and she snapped, “Kiss me, you big bantha.”

He obliged, stretching against her languidly, tension leaving his shoulders as his hands stretched to twine with hers, the kiss leisurely and hot and long.  “I liked it better when you called me ‘Supreme Leader,’” he breathed.  “I’d like it even better if you called me Ben.”

Her shoulders tensed.

She wasn’t sure.

“I’ll settle for ‘babe’ or ‘my lord,’” his tone was amused, but his muscles were tensing again and his hips flexed against her, suddenly reigniting flames.  “Even Kylo.”

“How about ‘beast,’ or ‘hot stuff,’” she said lightly, trying not to slide back into the inferno.  “Like, gonna untie me, hot stuff?”

“I’m not done with you, my dear,” he breathed, and she was falling again as he dragged his hard cock against her – too many clothes – and she pressed her lips together to muffle the telltale groan.  “You look too gorgeous, spread out beneath me.”  He was rolling down her leggings, and she was almost shy for a moment, but his dark eyes met hers as he pressed a kiss against the inside of her knee.  “I’ve thought of you like this so many times,” he breathed.  “I can’t believe it’s real.”

“I have hardly let myself think,” she replied reflexively.

“Now you won’t forget,” he said darkly, his lips working up her thighs.

He spread her to his eyes, and she squirmed.  “As much as I want to taste you,” he growled, his breath cool against her hot flesh.  “I won’t taste you until I get you on my throne.  My empress.”

She thrust up toward him again, straining, jaw clenched.  “You’re a lot of talk, my lord.”

He laughed against her stomach, and she knew he could feel all of her frustration, but also her need, how he was winding her up, so expertly it was plainly infuriating. And she couldn’t even see his face as he laughed, barely imaginable.

He began to slowly explore, landing soft kisses across her skin as she wrapped her legs around his hips and cursed him.  “I’ve waited a long time,” he whispered.  “And I enjoy making you greedy.  So far from your indifference.”

She dug her heels against his thighs, slipping against the fabric.  He had started using his teeth and she was on the verge of sobbing, so close!  He was killing her.  She tried to return to some measure of the indifference to punish him, and she was moderately successful, falling silent.

He stilled against her, his lips near an elbow and fingers nowhere near where she needed him.  “That won’t do,” he breathed.  “I’m going to make you come again.  I told you, I’m going to make you scream my name.”

“You can try, flyboy,” throwing his insult back at him.

He started slow, teasing her clit with the tips of his fingers, kissing her like he had all the time in the world, hovering just far enough away that she couldn’t get deep into his mouth, couldn’t taste him completely.  She lost her breath, trying not to use it to give him the satisfaction.

“Come on, babe,” he whispered against the shell of her ear.  “Let me make you feel good.”

She relaxed marginally.

He rubbed against her, so hard and he felt huge.  The friction burned into her, and she felt his fierceness, his voracious appetite wash through her, scalding her, she arched against him letting out a groan of frustration.  “Make me come,” she demanded.

“Say my name,” he challenged, pressing against her as his fingers pushed in wider, hitting her deep.  

His thumb found her clit and she moaned, her throat dry and scorched.  “You beast,” she twisted, feeling him riding the same edge.  “Come with me.”

He was close, she could feel it and he inhaled on a tortured groan, thrust against her tight thighs again.  “Even tied beneath me, you rule me,” he groaned.

“Please me,” she urged him on, reckless, broken, fiery.  “Make me yours.”

“Next time I will,” he promised, sinking his teeth into the swell of her breast as he thrust with his fingers.  “No time for your tricks.  You’ll just scream.”

She moaned.  Her vision was blurry, her limbs lax, she thought of it, she wished he’d just done it now – he felt her desire and his answering groan was strangled.  “Say it,“ he gritted, his fingers slowing.

“Kylo,” it was dark and angry and flame on her tongue.  He closed his lips over a nipple again, and she strained against him.  “Kylo!”

“Rey,” he answered, his voice jagged, and one last quick thrust and she was soaring again, crying out without words, twisting against him, and then he was following her, his hips convulsing against her and her name left him again, guttural.

She was wrecked.  Floating in a different ocean, one that was need and passion, he was everywhere, in each shiver on her skin, in her thoughts, her panting breath.

She felt him roll off her and she could hear him moving but she couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes just yet.

She woke with a start, her shoulder jerking against something hard.

Completely disoriented – she collapsed back against him, groaning in disbelief, a hand rubbing against her eyes.

She hadn’t slept this much in months!

Her mind woke up slower, her senses stuttering to life and rubbed raw by his consternation, even stronger than earlier, and she realized that he was propped up on the bed, her head resting against his chest as he ran his fingers through her hair.  His other hand spanned her hip, holding her against him. It was soothing. Comfortable. Something she could have dreamed.

But his shoulders were bowed and she felt the tension in him uncurling like a living thing. He pressed a kiss to her temple with such gentleness it stole her breath.

Ben?

She pulled forward to look at him and she thought she saw gleaming wetness in his eyes before he blinked and said, “You’re beautiful. I never want to let you go.”

She opted for politeness.  “Thank you,” she murmured.  Then a smile.  “You’re not bad yourself.”

Those hands.  The broad chest. His crooked mouth, teasing her.  His thighs, pinning her.

He shuddered, like he could hear her thoughts and they crawled against his skin.  She wiggled away, dragging a blanket with her self-consciously to the ’fresher, feeling his eyes on her bare skin.

Chapter 10: I'll Never Join You

He was still burning when she returned from the ’fresher, staring out into a shifting nebula, beautiful and deadly. 

Like him.

He didn’t move right away, his hands clasped behind his back, his shoulders and thighs straining at the uniform he had put on, presumably while she slept.  He could be standing in the throne room, ready to fight fire with fire.  Still and taunt as a bowcaster.  Rey had forgot that he could be patient, with that whirlwind inside.

She’d almost expected him to come at her again, as she emerged wrapped in his towel.  She felt unsteady.  She had regained some calm.  But it also felt like something inside her was crumbling, rocked.

All she had left were her arm guards, which she had rewrapped after she dried off from his shower.  He stirred, perhaps catching this thought.  He turned, his jaw working for a moment as he took her in, bent slightly to gather up some clothing without looking away.  “Let me help you,” he murmured.

She rolled her eyes at him, snatching her leggings and perching on the edge of the bed to pull them on somewhat surreptitiously under the towel.  She glanced up and he was holding out the tunic expectantly.

She turned away from him and dropped the towel.  His breath caught behind her, and she held out her arms.  Her pulse quickened as he eased the material over her, feeling his fingers ghosting over her skin. 

She shivered. 

His hands lingered on her waist, and he inhaled, pressed his lips to her throat.  She remembered the mark he had left, wondered at the distance and tension and fury and need that riddled him. 

She didn’t understand.

He relaxed against her, and she turned in his arms to scrutinize his expression.  Blank.  Didn’t move.  Swallowed.  “Lead on, my lady,” he murmured, gesturing toward the airlock.

She pulled away, thinking, retrieved her cloak and pack, her lightsaber.  Accepted coffee. “What is troubling you?” she asked.

He’d turned from her, was fiddling with a control panel.  “I’m trying to be on my best behavior, my dear,” his voice rumbling through the air, hitting her in the chest.  “For you.”

That wasn’t it. 

She folded her hands together around the mug, and thought that she didn’t have time to play games with him at the moment.  The unfamiliar black, padded fabric itched at her neck. 

“Have you found the pod?” she asked his ramrod straight back.

“Yes, I’ve tethered it to my ship,” he said smoothly, ducking under another panel.  “What do you think we have to do?”

Now she reached out, sensed the presence just beyond this hatch, the thrum of the unfamiliar.  A wisp of cloud and chagrin.

She shook that away.  “I’ll know.”  She was sure.  His presence was making her both uneasy and confident. 

He was here.  He was helping her. 

But his fracture rubbed at her, and something hummed in her periphery.

He looked over his shoulder at her, and she caught a flash of helplessness. 

Despite the calm that had descended upon focusing on her work, she still felt off balance. She downed the rest of the coffee, ate a ration bar, her skin prickling. 

She drew even with him, studying his expression.  His brow furrowed as they both stepped up to the airlock. 

“You said my grandfather found this ship?”

“Yes,” she said carefully, trying to gauge his new mood but he was still slightly withdrawn. 

“I sense a presence,” he murmured. “One I have not felt since. . .”

A chill works its way up her spine. 

The past stretches behind her like an abyss, hurling emotions and words and faces and places at her in a whirlwind, threatening to sweep her up.

“Strike me down – ”

“I killed – ”

“Run away – ”

“Release your anger – ”

“Don’t do this.”

“I need him.”

“I feel the conflict – ”

“You underestimate – ”

“Fear leads – ”

Space a yawning chasm.  Lightning racing against an amethyst lightsaber.  A white hallway, filled with the breath of the dying. 

The chill of a reactor room, another breath - respirated - echoing in her ears.

He had sensed some part of the gaping void in the Force behind him – how couldn’t he have – “Rey?”

“I have a bad feeling about this,” she said, gritting her teeth against the onslaught. 

Message received. 

Deep breaths. 

Calm returned.  At peace.  His life force thrummed against her, steadied her. 

“Let’s go,” she said, sharper than she intended.  His hand had been outstretched, a moment away from a comforting touch on her shoulder.  He retreated, his eyes boring into hers, his yearning not assuaged by the past day.

It bled through, hit her suddenly.

He must have felt some part of that feeling, her confusion about the strength of his – desire?  Lust?  Greed?  Feelings?

His hands – his dexterous fingers that captivated her so, that she was now sure were as talented as she had dreamed – clenched, fists straining against his thighs like he did when he was furious, controlling himself for her, holding himself back with effort.

“You will always be everything to me,” he hissed, shocking her, catching her flat footed.  “I will always want you.”

She reached out reflexively, absent minded, certain of his belief in his words but needing to know, and she found no lie in him.  Fear.  Anger.  But no untruth.

He dropped his gaze to her fingers stretched toward him, and he whispered, “Even if you don’t need me.”

She was deep in the ocean now, the Force flowing through her with such strength and purpose.  She did not have time to dwell, but she completed her stretch across the distance between them, a light year at least, and her fingers rested on his cheek bone, splayed across the scar.  The touch alone lit her on fire, though it felt like only fuel for her purpose, for the task ahead.  She inhaled, drinking in his fury and need, that helplessness she couldn’t understand, his skin vibrating beneath her fingers.  “I believe you.”

It was true.

His fear and consternation mixed with furious drive, his strength of purpose that normally left her breathless churned within her moment of peace. 

She had nothing to fear.  She was strong. 

The airlock opened. 

She immediately saw the shift in his eyes, the dark edge, but she had no time to ponder because he was suddenly giving her a brutal kiss, his hands cradling her neck, his hips driving her back against the metal frame, forcing her back into a hallway that a corner of her mind knew was within the Jedi ship, but all she felt was fire and darkness and an ice creeping up to counteract the flame –

His lean, hard body pressed her against the wall, and she wrapped a leg around him, wanting him.  His thumbs swept across her cheekbones, his need was unbridled and dark and she was lost.

The darkness called to her like the fire, strong and clear.

Join me.

No?

Something was wrong.

It was rattling, just a feeling that she was trying to swim through.

She clung to him, thinking, I want you.  But.

Her hesitation was like an emergency flare.

It shot through the gloom, clearing her head - she was there; he was there.

There had never been any doubt.

What had caused the doubt?

The darkness was cloying and dangerous and she broke out thinking, this isn’t it.  This isn’t what I want.  He lost his grip on her, stumbled away from her, she couldn’t –

She blinked and they were in a corridor, segmented and breathless and cold and the bareness of an atmosphere streaming by them in fragmented particles.  Squares of light. 

A place she had seen in visions several times.  A place she had not thought she could go.

A city in the clouds.

Her mind was slow to catch up, but she felt the challenge coming, set her shoulders.

In the space of a gust she’d lost him somehow, in the darkness.

He was screaming.

A choice.

“Ben!”  She screamed back, meaning it, certain of one thing.  “Ben, run!”

She turned, and he was braced against the wall, every tendon stood out against his neck, and the wind was whipping against him, making him look disoriented and broken, his hair streaming across his face.  “Not without you!”

Then she heard it.

The breath from her nightmare, the moment that broke her dream into reality.

“No,” she gasped, her composure slipping as she tried to reach for anything, anyone.  She couldn’t believe they were here. 

“Search your feelings. . .”

It was like all the light was being sucked out of the air, like all her ties were broken and she was standing in a gale alone. 

“You know it to be true.”

The respirator echoed through her bones.

She couldn’t see the speaker, so she turned back to Ben, feeling along the feeble tie she still had to him but it felt so weak.  Almost as if he was being torn from her.  His eyes were wild when they swam into her vision again, and there were strains of red and gold, flecks she had only seen once before, a memory of agony.  His shoulders were hunched and he looked furious and glorious and terrifying.

But she wasn’t afraid.

She shoved him to his feet, started maneuvering him back through the airlock, she didn’t care, she didn’t think, she was almost through –

He began to yell at her, like a wounded animal and she couldn’t stop tears as she mustered her own yell, “Leave, Ben!”

Then.  Behind her.  The click of the exhale. 

Too late. 

The cold was so foreign to her and had quickly seeped into the sinew of her muscles, the blood vessels beneath her skin, already killing her as she looked over her shoulder, still driving him back against the airlock with the whole force of her body as he howled. 

And the looming, towering form swept into the hall, the satin brushed cloak slithering along the floor.  “Join me,” the words were hollow and metallic and frightening.  “My heir apparent.”

The ruby red lightsaber ignited and she had to shove back, to parry by throwing her own, she needed Ben out of here.

Rational thought bled through, and Rey seized, hurled his blade back into his ship, saw him distracted in an effort to boomerang it back, one final heave – 

She closed the airlock.

His pain ripped through her like a swipe from a sand dragon and it almost sent her to her knees.  Sweat and tears burned her eyes and she refocused, wiping it all away, squaring her shoulders, reclaiming the hilt of her weapon. 

Disengaging the airlock.  Shutting him out and away. 

“You have learned much, young one. But you think you can keep him from me?”  The metal air rasped and she set her feet, brought his own lightsaber up before her.

“Yes,” she growled.  “I can.”

Notes:

4/9 quotes from the past belong to Anakin and all have to do with him.

I’ve been quoting the movies a fair bit. Maybe Empire the most because it is the best one (don’t at me for this cold take).

“I’ll never join you!” - Luke Skywalker

Chapter 11: The Basalt Path

The metallic click of the respirator echoed around her improbably, cutting through the howling wind.  “You are nothing,” Darth Vader’s voice rose as she pinned him to the railing.  “To my grandson.  To your resistance.  Your thoughts betray you.”

“No,” she exhaled and reversed her blade, slashing him through.  “I am exactly who I am supposed to be.”

The simulacrum burst into a thousand invisible pieces, and with it the vision of the suspension bridge where she now knew Luke had fought Vader long ago.

She was sore and tired and barely in control of her anger.

“You could have warned me!”

She knew he would come.  She whipped around, barely noticing the training chamber she was actually in, the semi-darkness, consoles, muted stand-by lights.  Not the bowels of a floating city.

Anakin Skywalker was still, himself, his hands clasped before him, not the mockery of humanity he had become.  “Ben has what I once wanted.  The power to rule the galaxy with the woman he loves by his side.  But, like me, he is not strong enough to understand that there is no point of view that makes the dark side justifiable.”

Disbelief colored her vision, making her dizzy.

“Anakin! You’re breaking my heart.”

Phantom fingers wrapped around her throat.

“You turned her against me!”

A world of fire and pain and rage.

She’d heard the old stories about Darth Vader, about the fortress on Mustafar that sat empty and brooding, a shell of theoretical greatness.

A lifetime – Luke’s lifetime – had passed since the fall of the Jedi and the rise of the Empire, of the Sith.  And still, the stains of blood and darkness crossed the galaxy.

She came back to herself, and her face was wet with tears.

She’d seen flashes of this past, this sorrow.  From Luke.  From Anakin.  In meditation.

But in that place the Force had taken her, she had seen and felt Anakin throw away everything he had loved – his wife, his child, his brother – played by the master politician and dark lord Palpatine.

She had felt the depth of fear and anger – she had only ever felt that in one other alive.

“You meant to challenge him?  You think he is lost?” she whispered.

She had seen the tears on Anakin’s face as he looked out over the lava fields for the first time, she had felt quickly and breathlessly the weight of years – fifteen perhaps – looking out over the same lava fields with his heart dead inside.

Her own heart was threatening to beat out of her chest.  “You think you destroyed the Jedi for good?”

His eyes were burning, but not with the red fire she had seen in them in the past.  The fire that had threatened to take over Ben, confronted by the remnants of Vader’s darkness and the terrifyingly realistic simulacrum.  “I cannot rest until I have righted that wrong.  Rey.  You must rebuild the Order, bring peace to the Galaxy.  Face the darkness before you. At any cost.”

She couldn’t stop crying.  “Luke forgave you,” she whispered.  “Obi-Wan forgave you.  I can forgive him.”

Anakin’s hand rested on her shoulder, improbable, almost real, “Don’t cry for me, little one,” he whispered.  “My pain is an old pain that destroyed millions of lives. You can prevent the destruction of millions more.”

A flash, a moment.

A temple.

Children.  Not the ghosts of those she had seen Anakin destroy.  Laughing.  Traditional braids on their shoulders.

The future choked her just as his hands had.

“I see it,” she told him, wonder filling her chest.  “I will succeed.”

"I will not fail you, Master."

The words echoed from his past, promises broken to Obi-Wan, to Sidious.

Her gaze did not waver.  He knew.  This was a promise she would not break.

 “I will not fail you, Master.”

“May the Force be with you, Rey.”  His face was hungry with the flash of the future she had seen.  He took a sharp breath, and was gone.

She tore the ship apart, throwing herself into the work and discovering treasure troves of knowledge, of lost Jedi and kyber crystals and wisdom, maps, credits, anything she would need.

The ship had somehow tracked Luke’s progress, was connected to other databases and – people?

She began the long and arduous process of reaching out, meditating on the names and places in the logs.

Darth Vader had built the simulacrum and then abandoned this ship, never using it again.  It had lived on its own, impervious to him and time.

The Force was strong here.  Bolstering her, cradling her, shielding her.

She suddenly knew what she had to do.

Impossible.

But not for her.

She made contact.

Luke had warned them against this day.

Part of her was shocked.  He hadn’t told her any had survived, that they had been waiting.

They thought she was not what they had expected.  They did not like her association with Kylo Ren.

She was used to not being alone in her own head, but she knew, from the teachings of hundreds of years now jammed into her skull that she was not supposed to be able to do this.  A bond such as hers with him was rare - any sort of bond, like the one between Luke and Leia, between Obi-Wan and Anakin, was generally familial, in blood or mind.  Master and apprentice.

To suddenly have the clamoring of several minds – five? more? – thrust upon her . . .

She screamed.

He heard her, and then he was yelling back wordlessly, in a rage and oblivious of the other presences, his desperation, his fury at not being able to protect her, to be everything for her.

You don’t need to be everything.

With effort, she relegated him to the back of her mind, she honed in on the words and echoes of pain and hope and bitterness.

Even a Jedi’s emotions get the better of her when left to her own devices.

But a couple of them were wise, had apprentices.  Jedi Knights.

The tears returned, and suddenly she was pouring all of Anakin’s pain and regret into them, her own betrayal and pain, which felt like it paled in comparison, her vision, her hope and clarity.

Her belief in the ways of the Force.

The children.  The promise they held.

It was time.

Every mind who touched hers was silent.

Not because they were gone.

She showed them Yoda, appearing before her, instructing her with the oldest texts.

“I have everything they were.  We will be everything they were meant to be.”

There were no more questions.

She wasn’t alone.

Her mind stuttered.  She hadn’t been alone.  But now, she had these others, others to help her shape the future of the Order.

This lifetime would be named, written in the Archives as the Dark Age or some similar moniker and it would be merely a moment in a history already rich and thriving, as it would be again.

One lifetime.  A stone on a paved path, stretching forward in a garden, one she could barely see as the path curved sharply away from her.

The future was always changing.  But this would not.

Rey!  Where are you?

She ignored him.  Took a steadying breath.

"Come to me."

He hadn’t found her planet yet.  And he wouldn’t.  They would.

"You’ll find me."

She blocked them all out, set about meditating, regaining strength, cleansing Vader from her psyche and pores and thoughts.

It wasn’t until she was re-entering the atmosphere of her sanctuary that she finally stirred, tried to weigh what might happen next.

Can you come?  She asked Leia, reaching across light years.

No, her mind was heavy with questions and age.  What was wrong? 

With effort she saw what Leia saw, what seemed to be a Knight of Ren, an ambassador.  Another, in another delegation.

How many?

Three.  One would be enough.

Enough to destabilize and raze a republic.

She went straight to comms, blowing through arrival protocol and finding the right person to connect her so that she could have a proper conversation with Leia.  Found out that there was some sort of peace celebration, delegations from every planet, in just over a week.  The knights had not gone to Kylo Ren.  Yet. 

“Anakin warned me darkness was coming,” she finished.  “He didn’t tell me the darkness was him.”

“Typical,” Leia snorted.

“Perhaps because it was not.  I’m worried,” Rey took a deep breath.  “It did not go well.  And we had been . . . getting along.  To an extent.”

Her mind was an ocean.

Leia’s expression was not hard to read through the hologram.

A pause.

Rey didn’t blink.

“I’ll let you know when he returns,” Leia finally said.  “In case you don’t know first.”

“I’ll know.”

The hologram winked out and the dam broke, all of the feelings rushing in.  She bent over the console, gasping, unable to think for a moment.

“Commander Skywalker?”

Had to get out of here.

“I’m fine, thanks, Lieutenant,” she managed to gasp, the woman’s rank jumping out from her lapel for her, before she turned and fled.

She was in the river, staring up at the sky on her back before she’d had much time to think about where she should go.  Her legs had simply carried her on a familiar path.

She closed her eyes.

“You turned her against me!”

She flailed up with a gasp, those volcanic eyes searing into her soul.

She couldn’t leave him like this.

But she had a job to do.

She settled onto the rocks beneath the bridge, thinking.

The future was coming to her planet, and she had to be mindful of the future.

But not at the expense of the present.

He was hurting.  And sand snakes were about to burst from the ground in front of him.

She worked through some exercises, stretching unused muscles, not thinking for a short while.  Enjoying her connection to her planet, her wildlife and greenery and dirt and stones.  When she re-centered she knew three things.

One.  Her Jedi already trusted her, and she had to protect them, nourish them, at any cost.

Two.  She had to do anything within her power to make sure he wasn’t the cost.

Three.  Maybe he wasn’t ready, maybe she wasn’t ready, perhaps they never would be.  But she had to regain some portion of the blind faith she had had in him.

For the first time since she had come to call this planet home, she suddenly didn’t want to be there.

She wanted to be with him.

This thought lit up like a ship’s hyperdrive in a darkening sky and she was rushing toward him, she was reaching out across parsecs –

She blinked.  The sun was just as bright.  She looked over her shoulder and her river was still there, but looking back –

He was standing next to a breathtaking lake.  As the world fizzled in around him, she could see domes and pillars and so many vibrant colors and the lake was more water than she had ever seen before life tore her from Jakku.  He was standing with a beautiful, petite woman in full regalia – tassels and yards of silk and things Rey didn’t have names for – and for half a moment, before she became as still as the lake in front of them, Rey felt a pang.

He was surprised, sent her a hard look, and now she could feel the pain, still so much pain, but his eyes didn’t look like . . . well.

He almost smiled.  That signature mixture of his feelings when he saw her washed through her, and it was so familiar and comfortable, but she missed the life force, the blaze of power and strength.

“Where are you?” She asked softly.  “Do you know what waits for you?”

He knew.  He was not focused on the threat.

“It will not take me long, Your Highness,” he said, turning back to the woman beside him.  The helmet was tucked under his arm, almost in deference.  He was struggling to focus, as he attempted to leash his emotions, keep them in check.

“That is not my complaint, Supreme Leader,” the woman said, and she turned so that she was no longer in profile and Rey was struck by her severe makeup, like nothing she had ever seen before.  Her face was white, adorned by a single red dot on each cheek.  Red lipstick on the top lip, and a single vertical line on the bottom.  Perhaps – but in the thousands of years and images crammed into her mind over the past months she could not immediately place it. “You have asked me to enter the mausoleum of one of our most respected leaders.  It is a sacred and unusual place.”

He swallowed, and she watched the muscles working along his jaw, neck.  “It is a personal request, Your Highness.”

“You have also asked me to defile this place,” the woman said frankly, folding her hands across her chest like she was used to arguing with impossible men.  Perhaps she was.  “You know I cannot let you do that.”

For once, she was the one reaching out to him.  She placed her hand on his shoulder, inhaled at the tension.

Felt the darkness awash inside him, felt the pillars of molten rage, breathed it in, drew some of it into herself, embracing it.

Letting it go.

“You had to leave,” she told him.

He had breathed with her, and she felt his muscles relax beneath her hand, if only slightly.  “Your Highness.  I must insist.  This is my grandmother’s tomb.”

A flash of fear crossed the woman’s face, and it was ugly, foreign for her. “Impossible.”

“I assure you, it is not.”

The woman was silent for long moments.  “Supreme Leader, What you speak of – ”

“I know.”  He exhaled, and Rey was shocked at the true emotion, the nostalgia and empathy that flashed through him.  “I need to find it.”

She couldn’t figure out what was wrong, and had missed what he needed, but she didn’t care.  She found herself transfixed by him, as if she had never noticed his cheekbones before, how she’d marred the one, and how breathtaking she thought he was.

She brought her other hand up, and she was leaning against his shoulder, her fingers brushing against his unblemished cheek as she inhaled his scent, familiar and leather and home.

She buried all this in her lake, her fingers trailing down and against his chest.

She felt him catch a thread of her contentment, and he was off-balance, wary.  Then she also felt the thread of his worry, the flash of knowledge of who was waiting for him on Coruscant.

“I’ll come help you,” she told him.

She stumbled, alone under the bridge and it was so sudden and inevitable and jarring she couldn’t help but yell, and she was breathing hard, throwing herself through exercises and striving for balance, calm –

By the time she dropped out of meditation, an hour or ten later, it was dark and she was tired.

She returned to ground level, propelling herself up the cliff face.

She knew what she had to do.

They were coming and she would wait until she had to leave for Coruscant.

Because she was going to pull him out.  No darkness, no weight of history, would stand against her.

She thought she had seen resolve from him – hers burned bright enough to sear through ice and cloud. Cold enough to solidify a magma plume.

The weight of the future hung inside her, and she’d never wavered in her purpose.

Rey knew who she was.

And she had a job to do.

Notes:

Not planning on seeing the movie for several days. Almost interrupted the flow of the chapter where describing the "Dark Age" by saying that perhaps it would be known by another moniker - the Rise of Skywalker.

Had a conversation at work today about how literally any movie in the nine volume set could be called the Rise of Skywalker.

Some fun facts:
1) Learned Amidala's mausoleum is a thing in the comics;
2) Jedi often used simulacrum in the Trials; and
3) Aware of new canon re: knowledge in the galaxy of Anakin and Padme but not particularly interested in that (though I sort of included it here), or in whether people know who Kylo Ren is, I am sort of pretending that they do not.

Chapter 12: I’m Getting Used to People

She’d ditched her cloak in the craft, and she thought she needed food and perhaps the dining hall would still be open for dinner. She searched out Rose’s life force and detoured to the west hangar, looking for her. 

“Commander!” Rose looked incredibly relieved, chased by confusion as she popped out from under a ship.  

“Rose!” She engulfed her in a hug and it felt so solid and powerful.  “I’m starving.”

“Do you want to change first,” Rose murmured next to her ear. 

She’d already dragged Rose halfway through the hangar before the comment’s weight hit her. 

Oh. 

She swallowed. 

Yes.  She wasn’t going to rub this in Poe’s face, that would be cruel. 

“Yes,” she said lightly.  “It’s alright that I’m kidnapping you?”

Rose was waving at the sergeant on duty. “Canton won’t mind.  He worships the ground you walk on.”

Rey had felt admiration and when she glanced at this Canton the feeling strengthened.  He snapped to attention, and she offered him a salute. 

“It’s obvious?” she murmured as they walked out of the hangar, running her fingers underneath the padded black collar.  “I’d totally forgotten.”

“You’re also a bit damp,” Rose smiled at an engineer who passed them, her hand a force on Rey’s shoulder.

“Break right,” Rey hissed.

They managed to avoid Poe and she changed quickly for the mess hall.  Rose chattered just outside the door, telling her about the celebration on Coruscant and recent political decisions around the base. 

When she stepped out, Rose stopped talking and hugged her again.  “I’m glad you’re alright.”

“More than alright,” she told her friend, meaning it.  

“You look different,” Rose murmured. “Spill.”

Her high level summary apparently left much to be desired.  “I stashed the ship a couple parsecs from his fleet.  I had to leave my craft in the hangar because I’d promised him we could travel on the Silencer.  Once we got back to the ship, we were able to open it, but when we got in there was a simulacrum of Darth Vader - and I had to send him away.  Fighting a Sith alone is not an enjoyable experience.”

Rose glared and then began to pepper her with questions.  Rey laughed, answering some. 

Finally, she said, “Yes of course he made a move.”  She smiled, thinking about how driven and relentless he had been.  “Several.”

But it was hard to laugh.  His unease still rested at the very back of her mind, he had been in pain for days and it was hurting her too. 

She took a deep breath.  

She was an ocean and alone in her mind.

For now. 

“It’s like being on Jakku,” she breathed.  “The closest thing to home I ever knew.  The desert sun was always glorious to behold, but deadly. That’s what standing next to him is like.”

Rose was silent, encouraging her to continue.  She sighed.  “He’s only focused on making me want him.  Has been for months.  Despite any doubt I have, any darkness within him, he’s been successful.” 

“Not news,” Rose rolled her eyes.  

Rey rubbed a palm across her eyes.  “I actually might have started it, I kissed him in a lift.  Then I saved his life.”

Rose started laughing uncontrollably, and reached out to drag her toward the dining hall.  “Stars, Rey.  You don’t see yourself clearly at all.  Proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Rey smiled, Rose’s words warming her.  She had done what she wanted, protected what she wanted.  A bloom of confidence appeared in her chest, causing her blurt out, “He knew exactly what he was doing.  It was incredible.”

“I’m happy for you, Rey,” Rose grinned.  

To wake up next to him every day, their bond in sync, stretching out next to that bonfire to ward off the cold of space.  

Rose had said something, and Rey shook her head.  For a moment, she had felt it, a moment in the future that was perfect in contentment and peace. Fingers trailing in the fountain in their quarters.  

Yet darkness lay in wait.  

“Rose, I need to talk to Poe and the Generals immediately,” she said, suddenly the pall of darkness real and threatening and close.  She had something to fight for, but the future could change.  She had to ensure that it would not.  

Rose became serious at her change of tone.  “Alright.  You grab food, I will send a comm to Poe.”

By the time she had taken a turn through the buffet line, nodding and smiling at people, even exchanging a few pleasantries, Poe was with Rose at the entrance to the canteen.  She hurriedly shoved part of a sandwich into her mouth and grabbed what she could carry so they could walk to headquarters.  

Poe looked glum, but greeted her warmly.  “Rey!  The notice said you arrived hours ago, but we couldn’t find you.”

“Yes, well,” Rey paused. I was freaking out?  Trying to discern the future?  Communing with the Force?  That one.  “I was meditating,” she murmured.  “There is a disturbance in the Force.”

She managed to shake him off and successfully relay the danger to the command staff left in Leia's absence.  “Commander,” one asked.  “How much can we do, really?”

“Be prepared for an incursion.”  She took a deep breath.  “I will not be going alone.  And I have to ask you a favor.”

Silence.  “Anything.” Finally an older man, a human, responded - a general that Rey didn’t know well, but he had been friends with Han.  Chewie had let him use the Falcon.

“There are several Jedi who need to relocate here.  A couple of them will come with me to Coruscant, but the others will stay here, for your protection as well as theirs.”

The man’s face, etched with laugh lines, was suddenly serious and weary and old.  “I thought my old friend ended the line.”

“No,” Rey was distracted, the Force was surging and moving and - “One has arrived.  No need for the shield.”

A proximity alert went off, and no one moved to silence it, staring at her, the room awash with hope and fear and loss.  It submerged her for a moment, places she did not know, too many people for her to see.

“I don’t understand,” he told her, and similar looks of consternation were reflected elsewhere.  

Ah.

If there were Jedi, why had they stood by and let this happen?

“The remnants of the Order were scattered, told to hide and wait for me.  They did what they could - if you think back, you may have seen their handiwork many times without realizing.”

One woman stepped forward from the back of the room, an old grief palpable and one Rey knew too well herself.  “How many?”

“I am sorry,” she replied softly.  “You know your son passed.”

A warmth, a fleeting shadow of a thought. 

“But your daughter is coming,” Rey said slowly.  “She is anxious to see you.” 

The emotion from this woman was too raw, too familiar, and it hurt, it ground at her like a scab falling from a healing wound. 

Sparked something, flint against a rough edge.  

“Don’t leave me!”

They’d loved her.  That warmth, that tragedy from this woman echoed in her chest.  

The vision had drawn her away, made her see the present as though it was reflected on a viewing screen.  

The Jedi in the atmosphere felt her unease, the turmoil, not the root cause, and she had to reach out to her - It’s personal.  We are well. 

She’d missed some conversation, and Rose had clearly diverted when she pulled back into the present, rewound through the last few moments of consciousness, nothing vital, some pain from the woman, some further confusion from other corners. 

“Lieutenant,” she commanded, turning back toward the woman who had helped her at comms earlier - a friend, Connix.  “Deactivate proximity alert, relay to north watch that a transport is arriving at mark 3.2, clear the landing strip.” 

Connix was already prepping the ground crew as she turned back to the remaining leadership of the Resistance.

“They were not strong enough to defeat Snoke and his knights,” she told them.  “I am.”

She meditated and fought for five straight days, waiting for the handful of Jedi, preparing to fight for him.  

She had hoped that her words would keep him at bay, him knowing that she was coming, and her emotions were even keeled, unremarkable.  Nothing to attract attention. 

On the sixth day, the last transport arrived, with the woman’s daughter on board.  

She was the youngest, only a couple years younger then Rey, and woefully in need of training.  

All in and all, two pairs, masters and apprentices, a loner named Corran Horn, this girl, whose name was Sabe, and three other loners of varying skill. 

Rey was centered, moving though the Force with the grace of a swimmer and Sabe was like a tidal wave.  She left the others on the hill (where they had been camping, despite the perfectly good bunks inside) and went out to meet the woman.  After a tearful reunion between mother and daughter, Sabe turned, smiling, to Rey.  

The sands of time shifted beneath her, and a momentary glimpse of a small child, driving rain.

“Hello, Sabe,” Rey said. 

Their palms met, and another rain soaked memory jolted forward, a thin young man staring balefully down -

No. 

No. 

No. 

Impossible not to feel this rage.  

But it was just, it was hers.  

Sabe recoiled from the touch, a glimmer of fear on her face.  “I don’t normally have visions,” she murmured.  “That was . . .”

“Yes,” she ground out.  “A memory.  Apparently.”

“I thought it was a coincidence,” Sabe’s face was white.  “There was another child, I saw her only a couple of times, named Rey.  Her family did not bring her around very often.” 

It was taking everything in her not to crumple and fall and everything was a lie and he had lied and -

“Your parents must have taken you off world,” Sabe murmured. 

“Do you know who they were?” 

“No,” Sabe shrugged helplessly.  

“Thank you,” Rey murmured, trying to pull herself together. 

She needed to sleep.

She went back to the others, told them their vigil was over, that they would move into the base and start learning and training together soon.  

First she had to go to Coruscant. 

She knew they could sense an echo of her hurt and rage and tangle that she was attempting to browbeat into submission, but she also knew, as she stared into the sunset, alone, wrapped in a cloak that represented family, home, hope, history, duty.  They would not ask.

At least, not yet.  

She slept. 

She was in his quarters, aboard the Supremacy.  

The air felt lifeless and dark grey.  She shivered with the coldness of a world without -

His hand on her neck surprised her, she jumped, turned her head to gaze into those fathomless eyes.  

He moved suddenly, without his normal deliberateness. The kiss was deep, consuming, powerful, everything for a moment, but he pulled away and she was pinned against the bulkhead.  She took a breath, none of his warmth here in the dark of space and he murmured, “I wish I had found you on Jakku.”

She was mad at him.  But his weight was trapping her and she couldn’t feel him, couldn’t see into his heart as those eyes bore into hers.  Felt like she didn’t know what to say.

“I would have took you.  I would have kept you.  No one would have begrudged the Master of the Knights of Ren a slave.”

Fear, an old friend, crawled up her spine.  She wanted to scream, she wanted to push him away, but pressure was mounting against her throat, those eyes were cold and lifeless and cruel.  Ash. Volcanic color bled through. “Now, instead of training you, I have to break you.” 

Notes:

Thought I would post one more chapter before I go see Rise of Skywalker.

The shoutout to Corran Horn is for all of you who miss the EU.

I’ve now racked up three named OCs and there is only one other major one (a Jedi).

I’ve never been convinced that anyone could be the “last” Jedi. It’s too easy to hide in a galaxy where Leia would believe that there is a “Lando” system. (I just rewatched Empire)

Chapter 13: The Measure of a Murder

Notes:

Had to finally add "AU - Canon Divergence" to my tags. I am not going to start commenting on TROS until my posting catches up to where my writing may be slightly influenced by it (a couple chapters). Also want to give everyone another week to see it so no spoilers from me yet.

But I saw it.

Reality narrowed and dulled, fizzing at the edges, the world awash with greys and blacks and fire.  Another ragged breath.  Shattered. 

She collapsed onto her hands and knees, her fall eased by his arm around her shoulders.  

She was gasping, as if it had been real, stars and space, it had been a dream, just a dream - 

“Rey,” his voice was frantic.  Warmth leeched back into her.  “Rey, you were choking.”

“You were choking me,” she rasped.  A tear she couldn’t stop slid down her cheek.

“I wasn’t!”  He said hotly, horror drenching his words, his thoughts.  It slid against her cheek, icy and leeching. 

He wasn’t really here. 

Another tear fell. 

“A dream,” but it came out as a sob.  “Only a dream.”  

His fingers curl around her shoulder, and he is warm and solid and huge and safe - but not really here. 

She raises a shaky hand to cover her eyes, a dream.  This is also a dream. 

She is so sick of dreams. 

“Please,” he growls, gathering her more securely in his arms, and she half-fell into his lap as she cried because that’s what she was doing now apparently, crying.  “Talk to me.  Let me help.”

She wanted so much to let him help.  

But she couldn’t trust him.  Couldn’t begin to delve into the turmoil within her own mind.

“What happened?” his voice is even, but his fury winds about her like a fur-lined coat, a luxury she’d experienced on the behest of Leia once in the snow.  

She focused instead on the darkness close and cold, shutting out anything else.  “I was with you on the Supremacy,” she choked out.  “You told me that you wished I had been your slave.  That you would break me.”

His chest heaved against her as he took a deep breath, his fingers running carefully through her hair, slowly, hypnotically.  Pulling it from its ties.  

She relaxed a fraction, his touch easy and familiar and not terrifying.  Not what she’d seen.

“I will not lie to you,” he said lowly, and she missed the strength of his life force, she knew now, after seeing him, what she missed when the Force brought them together.  It wasn’t enough.  “I used to dream of you in chains, at my mercy.  I thought I had locked those thoughts deep, away from where they might hurt you.”

His fingers flexed involuntarily, angrily, against her hip.  An echo of an old thought.  Barely an afterimage.

He held her by her hair, her arms were chained wide and the flash was too quick, she thought he had wanted to fuck her like that, she looked helpless.  His.  

Not really like herself at all.  

She’d never be helpless again.  Fire curled through her stomach.  He could try.  

“You could not hurt me,” she whispered.  

His breath stuttered in his chest, and he made a tortured sound deep in his throat.  “Do not test me,” he groaned.  “I am not strong enough.  I have frightened you.”

The fear was receding, hurt was taking its place, she was so hurt, he had lied, then the memory blasted back to the forefront of her mind, she didn’t want to hide it from him, it burned through any desire that had been building.  

He was silent.

She wiped a hand across her eyes, trying to gauge his sudden void.  

Shock.  Confusion.  

“You - You thought I remembered?”

She turned this over in her mind a couple times, thinking through his stillness. “That’s what you thought?”

“Well now you make it sound idiotic,” he told her coolly. 

She leaned back, and he let go of her reluctantly.  She shifted, resettled so that she was straddling his hips as he knelt on the floor of the throne room, his face lit by tongues of flame.  She reached out for his forehead, giving him a heartbeat to resist.

He did not.  

She closed her eyes. 

She found the memory in his mind quickly, sifted through his thoughts, but only found herself there a couple times - he had never spoken to her, never known her name. 

Did not know her parents. 

“No one,” she breathed.  His old conviction rocked her.

His fingers brushed her cheek and he whispered.  “I was wrong, you have never been no one.  I have never forgotten you.”

She was busy trying to find some hint in his mind of their identities something he had missed -

“I was frightened when they said there was a girl with my father,” he admitted.  “A part of me wondered if it might be you.  Even as a child, you burned brighter than every sun I had ever seen.”

She was only half listening, studying fragments of memories as he spoke.  She sensed the change in him, but ignored it, thought, who is this stranger holding my hand.  Why don’t I recognize my own father.  

“The most powerful person I’ve ever met,” his voice has smoldered, and his hands are on her, his touch is feather light against her arms, her thighs, and it heats her through.  He shifts, grabs her ass, digs into her hair, moving her roughly and even closer to him.  He feels like a furnace.  Her inhale sounds like a gasp.  “You have me completely enthralled.  I burn for you.  I breathe for you.”

Now she is distracted, his breath is hot against her skin. Pushing kisses anywhere he can reach, softly, carefully.  Her thoughts are arrested, heat sweeps through her, and she gasped, caught off guard by it.  He took advantage, forcing a daydream through her fingertips, in the forefront of his mind.

She exhaled sharply, seeing him naked and stretched over her, the muscles in his back flexed and rippling - 

“Every moment of my life is yours,” he murmurs, and darkness flickers against her eyelids, she opens her eyes.  Meets his.  “I live each day hoping I might see you.  I sleep each night hoping you will join me.”

Her breath felt jagged in her throat.  “Are you done?”

His teeth bared, and she felt him restrain himself - passion and fury identical and swirling - but his fingers tightened against her and he hissed, “I take what I can get.”

“A simple ‘I need you,’ would suffice,” she murmured, returning to his memories.  “Was there something you didn’t want me to see?”

He groaned, his forehead thunking against her forearm.  “You’ve never thought of this.  You’re going to hate me.”

“What do you mean?”

The stranger holding her hand wasn’t her father. 

“What if the traders weren’t your parents?  What if – ”

She recoiled as rain and red and ruin flashed through his consciousness.  A shallow field.  The lightning tamed to heel.  The destruction of the Order.  A man he’d cut down.  

“What if you killed my parents.”  The words fell tonelessly from her lips, froze as she remembered the vision of him facing her across the ruin of a lifetime, his helmet on, his lightsaber drawn and deadly.  No place for her, but real in his memories.    

“Please,” he looked up at her, grabbed her hands in his.  “I will spend the rest of my life atoning for my sins.” 

She was far away, the Force drew her, waves washing through, and she was calm and clear but she needed time - 

Her course did not waver - a moment in the future flashed, Coruscant, a hazy adversary, snarling, he knew what had been done - 

He had seen it too, his fury bathing her in its familiar warmth, he would prevent this, he would drown this enemy in flame - 

She rolled off her bunk, attempting to dive straight into the amount of meditation that was needed to subdue this amorphous rage - Obi-Wan had shown her mistakes made in the heat of fury, and she could not afford a mistake.  

She had spent the last six days preparing, and she did not have many more left.

She started doing push-ups, eyes closed, and then there was pounding on her door, Finn - 

She flipped to her feet, was there in a blur.  

“What did I do?” she asked him, seeing half the question before it was breathed into the air. 

Finn exhaled, used to her jumps in time by now.  “You turned the shield generator on in your sleep.”

Hm. 

“A precaution,” she said, thinking how her shield wasn’t just protection, it was a cloaking device.  “Apparently I’m contacting the Supreme Leader.  Give me a few minutes.”

She shut the door in his face as he spluttered, she changed, considered. 

Had there been a part of her that had noted this possibility?

Her parents were dead. 

She’d known that for a long time. 

Did it matter that he might have had a hand in their demise? 

The crime of killing a parent was far worse than causing the death of a stranger.  

And hadn’t she forgiven him for killing Han?

The rage had quieted before it had reached full bloom.  She shut everything out, focused on her own emotions, meditating briefly and the living Force sang through her, sang with the spring of crops and blood of wild animals and hum of the forest.  She drew back in, closer to her quarters, opened herself up to the life force around her, the people on this base, the Jedi and Padawans who had come, exhaled darkness and death and felt the others waking up, gathering their things, getting ready to meet her.  

She opened her eyes.  

“That was quick,” Luke observed.  

“Do you know the answer?” she asked, nonplussed.

“No,” the word was etched in regret.  “I did not know that you had been to the Temple.  I did not know that you had met my wayward nephew.” 

“I was no longer seeking this answer.”  She exhaled, slinging the cloak around her.  “If my parents were Jedi . . .”

Luke nodded.  “There have been very few children born to two Force-sensitive parents.  Your powers are not surprising.” 

She folded her hands into her cloak.  She had a job to do.  “The Force has barely concerned itself with these Knights of Ren.  I don’t understand.  Do they have the power to divert all attention from themselves?”

“No one has power that absolute,” he told her.  “My nephew’s aura obscures much of your focus.  Broaden your senses.” 

Finn knocked on the door.  

“One more minute!” she yelled. 

Closed her eyes. 

Luke was like the sun, and his gravity sucked her in momentarily before she -

Pain.

She screamed.

Luke’s voice echoed, “Concentrate, Rey!”

She gritted her teeth against it, and then flashes of emotions, sounds and - 

She opened her eyes.

Luke was gone. 

She pushed out the door to meet Finn, striding with purpose past him, concentrating still on the one vague sense of foreboding that threaded its way through her. 

Darkness lies before you. 

It was taking shape, a feeling of deception and a play greater than - 

Ah.  

Insurrection.

Chapter 14: I Knew, Didn’t I

Finn had been talking, and she had to pull herself back from the contours of sedition within the First Order to interrupt him.  “Did you notify Lieutenant Connix?” 

Finn gaped at her for a moment before spluttering, “Yes, but – ”

“Good,” she said briskly.  “Also please tell her to deactivate the Level 3 alert.”

She had felt it pulsing through the portion of the base that housed active duty personnel, though the lower level alert was not impacting the living quarters. 

Finn did as she asked, and then said, “You know part of the fleet is going to Coruscant?”

She’d expected that.  “Yes.  You’re coming?”

“We had planned on it,” he nodded.  “What are we walking into?”

“You’ll see,” she said grimly.  It was still taking shape in her mind, the pieces hadn’t fallen into place.  But she was certain in the inevitably of conflict. 

After pulling herself from the throne room, she couldn’t sense him to warn him.  If she could have, perhaps she wouldn’t have needed to make a formal call. A thread of unease wound through her. 

Finn said, “Rose is meeting us at command.”

“Good.  Which general is on duty?”

“Calrissian.  Poe is on duty as well.”

“Excellent.”  Rey felt a presence coming up the next hallway, and she turned to intercept.  “Good morning, Annju.”

The woman was Twi’lek and ageless.  She smiled at Rey, and her warmth was genuine and bright.  “Good morning, Master Skywalker.  We felt the disturbance in your chambers.”

“Which one?” she muttered, before catching herself.  “I mean – ”

The woman laughed.  “And who is your friend?”

Rey introduced Finn, laughing herself as the Jedi almost immediately started asking questions that Finn spluttered at.  

Her mind drifted.  

Annju Tarkona was a moon, quiet and dark and reflective.  Needing gravity to tether, a massive bastion of life and energy.  

She had been found by a Jedi as a child, but had not been brought to the Temple – the purge occurred the same day she had been tested.  They hadn’t known to catch her.  But she knew.  Her family knew.  

When Luke had destroyed the Sith, she had been bouncing around the Outer Rim as a former slave, a pilot and a mercenary, waging her own private war against the enemy that had destroyed her chance at a better life.  

She’d found Luke.  

Later, Kylo Ren had not been able to find her – years as a slave dancer provided her with the perfect avenue of escape.  

Rey did not know this woman, and already she trusted her with her life.  

She knew what lay before them.  She knew what the cost might be.  She knew the weight of oppression and the price of peace.   

Annju glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, but didn’t break her conversation with Finn.  Rey breathed deep, centering, moving through the Force, away from the woman beside her.  

He was silent. 

Disquiet moved through her, but she was not sure if this was from the myriad problems she’d just unveiled or –

Annju’s hand crept to her lightsaber, and Rey asked, “Do you feel it too?” 

The other woman looked at her intently, her movement had not been as pronounced as Rey had thought, breaking from her discussion with Finn about Rose.  “It is interesting being around you, Master Skywalker,” she murmured.  “The bond you have formed with all of us heightens my senses, particularly toward you.”

“That sounds unfortunate,” she winced, a reminder that she had to be more centered, purposeful.  Quiet.   

Annju laughed, an easy musical sound, belaying the years of hardship Rey saw right below her skin.  “Not for me,” she said.  “I’ve only heard of such a bond.  I have not experienced it.”

“Perhaps with your next Padawan,” Rey murmured, but no weight was behind the thought.  Time bent away from them, distracted by an approach –

Was it her own plan, her conviction, blocking her view of the fork in the road?  

Annju could not see the turn clearly either.  She merely felt the foreboding in the air, in Rey’s aura.  

Finn interrupted, “Is something coming now?  I thought you said that danger was still several days away.” 

“Both,” Rey said without hesitation.  “Let’s go.” 

General Calrissian was in the command center closest to the main hangar, which had massive fortified windows overlooking the parade ground, landing strip, and to the left her field and bridge.  Her bridge was bustling - people were streaming into the parade ground and in and out of the hangar, bustling around squadrons, preparing for the fleet to leave for Coruscant.  

Connix met her at the door.  “Commander, we are working on the connection you requested.  We have not been successful so far.” 

Rey was floating in an ocean, mused, “Why not?”

“We’ve been deferred, sir.  We did not tell them specifically that you had initiated contact.” 

“Do it,” she murmured, folding her hands into her cloak. 

The general nodded at her.  “We received the news regarding the Knights of Ren from General Organa the day you arrived,” he told her.  “Finn said that you have additional information?” 

“Yes, General.  I will explain once we get the connection online.”

Rose came in, saluting the general.  Rey hadn’t.  She felt a twinge of self-consciousness. 

Rose pushed through Finn, who sighed and let her pass.  She put a hand on Rey’s shoulder, and Rey smiled at her.  “Rose, this is Jedi Knight Annju Tarkona."

The woman nodded, a smile crinkling around her eyes.  “Well met, youngling.  I see that you are close with Master Skywalker.”

“She is a good friend,” Rose grinned back.  “Even when she is careening headlong into danger.”

This brought Rey further into the present - “I do not - ”

Connix put a hand over her comm set. “General Hux wishes to speak with you.”

The ocean roiled, settled.  Heaved in a way she didn’t understand.    

She nodded.  “Put him through.”

The hologram flickered to life before her, and she stared impassively through, wishing that it was Leia.  

“Master Skywalker.”

“General Hux,” she said.  “To what do I owe the pleasure.”

“Might I assume this is your next act of treason in an effort to become Supreme Leader?” 

“You have the advantage of me, sir,” she murmured, but her heart had sped up, the split in the path was looming –

“You have not returned the Supreme Leader to the Supremacy, nor has he returned of his own volition.”

She’d engaged the cloaking mechanism in her sleep.  

“Surely he has sent word, General.”

His lips curled back with something like disdain.  “He claims to have made an unscheduled detour before returning for the celebration.”

“I would believe him, if I were you, General,” she told him, the hair on the back of her neck rising.  “He will not take kindly to an effort to the contrary in his absence.” 

The transmission cut off at her signal.

“Lieutenant,” the word was heavy and sand in her mouth.  “Proximity scan?”

“There is a ship orbiting the moon, Commander,” Connix told her, her voice even and her gaze unwavering.  “It’s been there for approximately one hour.”

“Deactivate the shield.”  The words were out of her mouth before she had thought them through, and the general barked, “Commander?”

Time spiraled away.  

“Deactivate the shield,” she repeated steadily.  

Annju tensed beside her, she felt a quick call from the barracks, but sent a wave of patience (that she did not truly feel) back toward the rest of the Force-sensitives there.  Rose was still, glancing between her and the general.

General Calrissian nodded. 

A moment passed.  

“Rey, what do you see?” Rose asked softly. 

She exhaled carefully.  “A tipping point.” 

Oh. 

The maelstrom of sun and stars and flame. 

Oh. 

The red alert screamed, and she was frozen, arrested by this turn of events, by this moment before her.  A moment she should have foreseen.  For once in her life, her focus had been too broad.

No one else moved.  The outline of a ship entering the atmosphere blinked blue on the main control screen.

Whoop.  Whoop. 

Time stood still.

Turned.  

Whoop.  Whoop. 

Thousands of souls turned with it.  

Whoop.  Whoop. 

Annju’s fingers latched onto her arm as the alarm abruptly shut off, the landing strip lights flashed clear and blue and red.  

“Master Skywalker,” she breathed.  “Are you sure?”

Rey had flipped the switches, activated the lights, signaled the landing crew without thinking, without moving, without asking permission. Static electricity jumped between her and Annju, making her inhale sharply. 

“Apologies, General,” she was not sorry.  She was one with the Force.  Rose burned bright, rested a hand on her other arm in support.  Rose was earthy and strong and sure. But Annju’s fear still curled through her, sour and jarring.  

“My friend,” she murmured turning to the Jedi, reaching down to take her hand, squeeze it.  “I am sure of this.”   

“Luke told us stories,” she breathed, looking deep into Rey’s eyes.  “About his father.  About how there had been conflict.  How he turned, at the end.  Sometimes, I wondered if he told them to spare his memory.”

“No,” she told her new friend, breathing shallowly, monitoring the rest of the room, still stunned silent, many staring at her or the general.  “I showed you.  I have seen him.  Anakin Skywalker.”

“I believe you.”  Annju squeezed her hand back, dropped it, returned her lightsaber to her belt. Rey had barely realized she was so unnerved, so sure was she of this path.

The general came to stand next to the other Jedi, his hands white knuckled.  “Nothing else on the radar, Lieutenant?” 

Connix snapped out of her stupor, checked the readout.  “No, sir.” 

Poe burst through the doors and skidded to a stop when he saw Rey.  “You knew?” he asked, an accusation.  

Rey sighed.  “Knew is such an imprecise word.” 

The Silencer continued to blink, etched in blue, on the screen before their eyes.  

 “Should I clear him for landing, sir?” Connix interjected quietly.  

But the ship was already screaming through the atmosphere, down to the planet’s surface.  

“Yes,” she said anyway.  

“He didn’t bring anyone with him?” Poe’s voice was incredulous, bordering on frenetic.  

“No,” Rey told him, conducting her own search beyond the base, the atmosphere, the sky.  “He is alone.”

“Why?” 

Poe’s word hung in the air and it glittered and spun like something she could pluck and place on her belt, like a talisman. 

Why. 

She inhaled, dropped further into meditation, away from this place. 

Away from him. 

To the river, down and down where the center of this planet pulsed, strength and power flowing and passive and alive.  Through the light and energy, she felt Annju join her, strengthen her resolve, her peace. 

She reminded herself, you are not alone. 

The red alert started going off again, drawing her back into the present. 

Whoop.  Whoop. 

She opened her eyes. 

Whoop.  Whoop. 

Connix deactivated it, staring between the general and Poe. “It came from ground control, sir.” 

Poe had come into the room to stand with them, and she caught his curious graze sliding back to Annju momentarily.  

“I called the Jedi here.  He must have heard.”  She wasn’t feeling much, but – “He’s here to talk.”  

Her voice did not waver, but the conviction in it almost felt foreign to her. She’d believed in him, once.  “I will find out what he wants.”

Notes:

I wrote this before I saw TROS, same as next couple chapters. Annju is another OC.

First thought on TROS: Annoyingly good but still incomplete take on Leia. Felt like I had failed her somehow when Rey called her Master (I have no doubt that Leia would have completed her training - but I also think she would have figured out being a Jedi and a politician somehow). That was super dope and made me choke up. Obviously more would have been done with her character if Carrie (RIP) had not passed. Was thrilled by the beginning training montage with Rey on the base - it was amazing. Better than I had imagined.

Chapter 15: Leap of Faith

She couldn’t feel the impact from her vantage point as the Silencer landed, but she couldn’t miss the ripple below.  

She winced, confusion and fear and hope lancing through her, jarring and disjointed.  People ran for cover, crowding away from the ship in all directions.  Some looked up at the command post.  Air cut like glass in her lungs.  Too many thoughts and hearts and minds.  Connix activated an alarm that merely stated, “Stand by,” in thirty second intervals.  

Feel the conflict within him, Rey. 

Not right now, she mentally hissed.  She could barely handle one Skywalker at the present.

Annju cringed beside her.  “That – ”

“Later.”  Rey was staring at the ship as it settled and she reined her senses in, trying to focus past the clamor, without his feelings clouding her judgment, but she knew he was here, he was –

His sturdy frame filled the cavernous maw of the Silencer, dark and foreboding and impenetrable, her breath hitched at the sight of the helmet, what was he –

She’d almost expected him to come out, lightsaber drawn.  

The helmet tilted, as if he had sensed something.  

He strode down the gangplank, his cloak sweeping across the metal expanse, his long legs eating up the distance effortlessly.  No one near him seemed quite sure what to do.  Most of the Resistance soldiers had drawn civilians to cover, but they were staring, unsure.  The world was frozen, motionless, in the wake of time standing still.  It started turning again, spinning away from Rey. 

Her own breath rattled in her ears.  

“Stand by.”

He stepped onto the earth of her planet, and she felt it hum through her skin, her muscle and bone.  A pillar of fire.  The green earth welcomed him, blazed through her, echoing life and passion and heat.  

Annju shifted beside her, marveling at Rey’s connection to this place. 

“Stand by.”

Her feet started moving, and she was right before the full-length window, her fingertips brushing the surface, could he see her?

He’d only taken a step or two from the gangway.  He bent down suddenly, a knee to the earth.  His fingertips spread, and she remembered the stories that she had heard so many months ago, of him arriving on a planet, setting foot, touching the ground, saying, “She is not here.”  Turning.  Leaving.  

His head snapped up.  

Silence quivered behind her, and her hand was clamped across her mouth to stop her own voice from escaping.

“Stand by.”

He took the helmet off, his hair neatly combed and styled, like the first time she’d seen him, his face marred by only her own touch, his gaze sure and steady and pinning her far and away above him.  

Planted it in the dirt next to him. 

His eyes kindled the embers in her chest, and she couldn’t believe it for a moment, still spared the thought to be stunned that he had risked this, that he had come into enemy territory and come for her. 

He bowed his head, and she could take a breath, escape from the power of his gaze, try to understand what he was doing –

He dropped his other knee to the earth and then he was there before her, kneeling, like to a sovereign or a –

“Kriffing seriously?”  The exasperated huff escaped her unwittingly, and she took a step back from the window, thinking –

“What is thy bidding, my Master.” 

She couldn’t help banging a hand against the glass, the pain of the respirator slicing through her own throat.  Something rattled on the console behind her. 

“Stand by.”

“This is all he knows,” Annju said behind her, her voice carrying and sure.  She knew.  Annju, out of all of them, actually understood.  What this meant.  “A Sith bends the will of others, requires supplication.”

“I do not,” she gritted out, and his eyes were closed now, he’d settled onto his haunches, meditating, waiting.  

Vulnerable.  

Vulnerable . . .

Annju started forward as Rey disrobed, leapt back, bounding to the far side of the room for the necessary leverage, her mind blanking with focus. 

Certainty that she had to get to him.  Now.

“Stand by.”

Annju’s lightsaber slid through the blasterproof glass like butter, shifted, rounded out a space – 

Rose yelled, “No, Poe!”

She didn’t have time for that, or for Finn who was yelling something indistinguishable at her.  She turned back, set herself, breathing steadily, seeing only the glass before her and Annju methodically making her way through it for her leap. 

She ran. 

Vaulted off the edge of the control panel, dove at the window, her lightsaber warm against her palm, she went through it hands first, the piece of glass Annju had prepared falling away before her with barely a shatter, and she was falling, flipped down through the air to land on the same ground as him. 

Annju was only a beat behind her as she pelted across the parade ground, every fiber of her being filling with the power of his presence, tearing a yell from her chest, “Ben!” 

Sabe was faster. 

Annju was yelling at the girl, “No!  Sabe!”

Rey threw Luke’s lightsaber, straight and true, Sabe had been closer to him, had time on her side, but the blue blade raced out to meet her own, a foot from his face, he had to have felt –

His hand shot out, wrapped around the hilt of the blade she had mended, rose to stare down at the girl impassively, like she had woken him from a deep sleep and he did not know where he was. 

Sabe didn’t stop.  She started hammering at him in earnest, but he merely slid to stop her, back and forth, an elegant, effortless dance for him as Rey, aghast, paused with Annju by her side.  

Her moment of hesitation passed and Rey blasted them apart, lightning arcing against their blades, separating them.  She charged toward Sabe, Annju had the other woman’s lightsaber –

Sabe was crying, and Rey collapsed on the ground with her, Annju standing over them, her own cobalt beam humming, watching, waiting.  Eyeing him as he stood, his legacy burning in his hands. 

“He killed my brother, Master!” Sabe could barely choke the words out through her tears.  

“I know,” Rey swallowed.  “He has killed those I have loved too.”

She opened the part of her mind that housed the memories of Snoke, bringing that abuse and power and despair to the forefront, to show her.  To make her feel.  

The corruption and manipulation of the Sith. 

But he avenged them.  She could not say these words aloud.  He killed Snoke. 

“He was wounded, deceived.  Do not match hate with hate,” she said aloud.  Knowing Sabe could hear it all.  

Rey felt the past cut Sabe to her core, and her breath slowed.  

Still a Padawan, really.  

She looked up at Annju, considering.  The woman cocked her head to look at her, an eyebrow raised. 

Perhaps with your next Padawan.  

Now the words felt heavy with the weight of destiny.  

The hate was still strong and fiery inside the young woman.  But the deception, the evidence of abuse and pain that Rey had shared had attempted to smother the flames.  

Sabe’s mother struggled through a throng of people, silent, watching. Rey rose, pulled the other woman to her feet. 

“Apparently it wasn’t entirely his fault, Mother,” she said in a strained tone, wiping her face.  “I have much to consider.”

“As do I,” Annju joined them, put a hand on Sabe’s shoulder.  “You have much to learn, youngling.”

Rey signaled to Rose in the tower – her friends had turrets targeting Kylo Ren.  

If that’s who was standing behind her. 

Her decision had already been made. 

She turned to face him, and he immediately sheathed the blade, the sudden quiet unnerving.  

“Ben Solo.”

The words sizzled and stirred the air, sending ripples of confusion out around them. 

She only had eyes for him.  

“Stand by.”

He sank back down to one knee, offered her the link to their past masquerading as a weapon.  “Master Skywalker.”

It came to her hand so that she did not have to move closer, figure out what she was supposed to do. 

Everyone she knew was watching.  Her world.  Her entire world was watching.  

I told you.  No one can know.  

His face was impassive, strong, did not flinch at her words.  He was collected, composed.  But there were circles under his eyes.  “I know I am nothing to you,” he rumbled, and his helplessness was like a wave to the neck, pushing her under the ocean.  His voice was clear and sure – his resolve.  “But I will do whatever you ask.  I pledge myself to your teachings.”

The words were ancient and painful.  So much pain. 

For a moment, a dark corner of her mind thought, the most powerful man in the galaxy.  Hers.  

Hers.  

His chin tilted up slightly, his lips softening, his eyes blazing.  

She struggled out of it, she was angry with him for doing this, for kneeling before her like she was them – There is only one acceptable scenario where you kneel before me, she snapped.  She hadn’t moved a muscle, all of her energy was maintaining her composure. This isn’t it.  

His gaze sharpened, and he made an involuntary movement with his hands, as if to push himself up.  His lips flattened into a smirk and it was hard to breathe for the smoke from the flames in her chest.  As my lady commands. 

She’d meant it as a joke, but she hadn’t sounded like she was entirely kidding. 

Now he was thinking about it, and she saw a snippet of a thought, his head buried between her legs –

He had to stop looking at her like that. 

His head bowed in acquiescence, but his desire still wafted around her.  As you wish.  Master.  

The lightsaber hummed to life, reacting to her pang of fury before it fled, swept away by the river that flowed through her.  Deep.  Life-giving and ancient.  She closed her eyes for a moment, reaching out into the world beyond. 

He rose, towering above her, and she thought perhaps he was smug again, the thrill of the risk he’d taken coursing through him.  

“Do you wish to test me?” His elation was contagious and she realized she was only angry because her instinct was to not believe it – was he mocking her?  

But he had found her.  

He could have only done that if he had embraced the group think of the Jedi. 

“Oh, I will.  Later.” She disengaged the blade.  

He bowed his head slightly, their bond blazing and filling her with the might of a supernova.  Distracting her for a moment.  So she didn’t hear him make the decision – “May I escort you to Coruscant, Master?”

She bit the inside of her cheek at his audacity, as a swell of whispers ricocheted out from their meeting.  She gestured upwards, where the Jedi craft hovered to a halt, called at the slightest suggestion from her.  “Get in before I give you another scar to match.”

He bent his knees, springing up effortlessly onto the open gangway above.  She met Annju’s gaze, which was deeply amused.  “I’ll be back,” she growled.  “Rose,” she said tersely into her commlink.  “Tell Poe that if he blows up the Silencer I won’t build him that stupid holoboard interface in the lounge that he keeps clamoring on about.”

“Copy, Commander.”

She sprang up after him, willing the gangway shut and sending the craft on a flight path across the lake and toward the mountain range she’d explored twice.  She glanced down as the hatch clanged shut, catching a final glimpse of his helmet, broken and forgotten in the dust below.

Notes:

Really wanted to call this chapter "Get in loser, we're going training."

Second thought on TROS: would have been so much better if the same director made both the Last Jedi and TROS. Part of me genuinely feels like Rian Johnson set the world on fire because he knew he wouldn't have to sweep up the ashes and that is incredibly unfair.

Thoughts presented here led me to write this fic - what if Kylo Ren came to kneel before Rey?

“I will do whatever you ask. I pledge myself to your teachings.” - Anakin Skywalker

Chapter 16: I Still Don't Know the Words

She found him in the training chamber, with its blinking, innocuous and dormant control panels, no hint of cloud or carbonite chamber, his hands clasped behind his back and white-knuckled.  “This is where he was,” he murmured.  He turned to meet her gaze, self-loathing twisting through the air, though not his face.  “Where I failed you.”

“That is not what happened.”  Rey exhaled, trying to keep a level head, finding that she did not want to run from this, that she wanted to just – “Explain yourself.”  He shrugged carefully at her not-quite-sharp tone, his eyes darting behind her as if he had heard the respirator.  “He isn’t here.  I wouldn’t have made you come if he was.”

“I’d deserve it,” he breathed, his voice equally even, a low rumble.  “I already told you why I’m here.”

Her patience snapped.  “What were you thinking?  Coming here!  Showing off – ”

“I was not showing off,” he growled, his fragile calm sparking against the flint of her irritation.  “I meant every word I said.”

“Embarrassing me – ”

His gaze never wavered, matching the determination that had never faltered since he’d set foot on her planet.  The set of his shoulders was that of a general preparing for a long battle.  “This is a war.  I just surrendered.  How is that embarrassing for you?”

This made her pause, aghast.  A general preparing to throw his weight behind his former enemy. 

Her irritation flamed stronger, how could he – “You won’t follow through!  And then where will I be, undermined and abandoned – ”

“I am yours,” he hissed, and he was much closer than she had realized and the strain between them was suddenly very real.  “This is not some joke to me.  I do not pledge fealty lightly.”

“They’ll challenge us,” her mind was spinning ahead, not quite centered, her own fears getting the best of her for a moment.  “They’ll belittle you, call you weak for bending your knee to a woman.  How will your ego handle that?”

No flash of fear reverberated.  No pause or shock.  Only resolve.  “I am yours to command.”

“But when you grow sick of the jokes and knowing looks?” Her heart was in her throat.  Beating against the impossible certainty coiling around her neck. “When they say you are less than a man because your woman keeps you on a short leash?”

“Only a fool would disrespect you in the manner you describe,” he said softly, his fingertips brushing suddenly against her cheek. Her breath hitched, and she leaned away, trying to gain clarity as his fierceness and the strength of their connection flared through her with purpose. His gaze narrowed as he dropped his hand, clenching into a massive fist.  “No one would dare.”

“If they dared?  If they,” she swallowed, the fire in his eyes real and vibrant and sane.  She wanted to shake him. But she couldn’t touch him.  “If they make crude remarks, lewd jokes.”

His lips curled back from his teeth, a snarl.  “I would defend you, unless you instructed otherwise.”

“But they would be attacking you!”

“To attack me would be to disrespect you.”  His ire at some perceived slight flared against her chest.  “But I can differentiate between a bruising to my ego and an attack on you.”

She was speechless for a moment, at a loss for words.  She had not considered how he fit into her plan aside from that he simply did. 

Now she saw that this might be the only way.

“This is purely professional,” he murmured, bowing his head, a picture of deference.  Keeping her reeling. Pressing his advantage.  “I need to complete my training.  You need to rebuild the Order, to ensure the livelihood of the Republic.  I will help you.  I’ll guard your back, every step of the way.”

She turned away, needing to gather her thoughts.

The Force was calm and sure and strong, afterimages of the past flickered around her, but her world was at peace, she was at peace.  Everything felt right.

It was shocking.

The only other time she had felt such certainty was when she tracked down Luke, asked him to train her.

This was her destiny.

She wasn’t good at this.  Expressing emotions.  He was annoyingly good at it.

Their time aboard the Silencer had changed everything for her.  She knew what it was like now, being with him.  And it made her want it even more.  She hadn’t had much time to think, but now they were alone and –

She turned back.  Everything had changed.  He had changed. 

He was studying her, and he said, “I can’t tell what you are thinking.”

Looking at him again made her heart clench, thinking about Sabe’s lightsaber, millimeters from his face, dyeing it a hypothermic blue.

If he was with her, she wouldn’t have to worry about him doing something stupid.

His head tilted.  “You’re worried about me?”

“Because you’re reckless, laserbrain,” she griped. Grimaced. An admission.

A small smile curled.  “I try, Master.”

“Ok,” she hissed, taking a step closer to him, feeling the warmth radiating from his skin increase improbably.  “Here are some rules.  If we do this, you only call me Master in public, and sparingly.  In public you behave.  I swear to stars and ruin, I’ll throw you out an airlock.”

“I believe you,” he didn’t look at all abashed, and he cautiously closed the distance between them, staring down at her, still trying to gauge her mood.  He didn’t raise his hand again. Instead he bent to murmur in her ear, “What if I misbehave in private?”

She had already been reaching for him, because suddenly rules seemed hard and the outside world very far away.

And this was easy.  The heat between them.  She shivered as his hands slid up her back, he sighed at the contact. He’d missed her.

She combed her fingers through his neat hair, messing it from its pomaded shape, and having her fingers on him made everything so much clearer - she had been wrong, she needed this, needed to see - she said lightly, “Your punishment might involve you getting on your knees.”

His smirk was only visible for a moment as he raised a hand to thread through her hair, tilt her head towards him.  Then he was kissing her, her eyes fluttered closed, and it was as if the fire truly burned, for she saw the glow of light behind her lids. She was barely distracted. He was firm and insistent and parted her lips so that he could taste her, tangle their tongues, and she felt it deep inside, sparking her to burning.  A corner of her mind felt him shifting something, engaging –

She gave a startled laugh as he grabbed her hips, slid his palms under her ass and lifted her up against him.  “What – ”

He dove toward her mouth again, smiling himself, his jubilation contagious, overwhelming.  “That is not a punishment,” he murmured between deep kisses.  “I will always please you, my lady.”

She wanted to retort but gasped when he put her down and she blinked and another laugh startled from her.

He’d morphed the training chamber into the throne room.

“Close enough,” she said breathlessly.  He had already pulled her leggings down to the tops of her boots, intent on his task.  “I doubt this is what is supposed to happen here,” she gasped as he knelt, his fingers spreading her thighs.  He looked striking and immovable between her knees as he peered up at her through his lashes. 

“You’re finally in my throne. And you’re already wet,” he murmured, pressing into her, the pressure taunting and unbearably sweet, and she inhaled hoarsely. His eyelashes fluttered down, he kissed her inner thigh.

She arched, her fingers scrabbling against the wide arms of the throne, his temptation making her breath short. “You’re so slow it might not last,” she growled.

He looked up again, the challenge blazing through him and she was spiraling in the feeling of his lifeblood, scorching her inside and out. Searing, rippling through the air and he was voracious with it, wanted to burn himself into her and make her scream. “You like it,” he breathed, sure and thrilled and pleased. One finger teased her, and she jolted, her hips moving of their own accord as he held her down with his other hand. “Writhing. Waiting.”

She couldn’t dispute it because he used anticipation like a weapon and he used it well.  “Someday I’m going to wipe that cocky smirk right off – ”

He licked deep and she groaned, seeing literal stars, the starfire igniting within her and the room was humming with their combined passion, strength. He had her pinned to a place of triumph and downfall, a monolith of his power and yet he knelt before her. She cried out as he turned to her clit, circling it with his tongue and she had to grip the edges of the throne. “Oh - don’t stop!”

His tongue was just as skilled as his fingers, and she was thrashing, couldn't budge his huge hands on her thighs. Relentless. His intensity winding through her like a river of molten lava. His pent up rage and passion and time he had spent wanting her.

She finally speared her fingers in his hair, digging into him and he made a sound deep in his throat, she knew what he wanted – “Please!” she begged at the edge, lost with him, "Please, please!" His teeth scraped against her clit. She screamed.

It broke around her and he was there in the brightness behind her eyelids as she felt tears, panting as their energy twined and pulled through her with such strength and drive it was hard not to lose herself in the might of a desert storm.

She was gone for a few minutes, spinning out through the universe, seeing nebulas and novas and dying stars and then, suddenly –

Jarring.  Unrest, a threat on the city of a planet.

She came back to herself, blinking, and he had picked her up, rightened her clothes, he was holding her in the massive throne. Holding her like she may yet disappear, at any moment. The bonfire was still roaring, and with a start she realized she had not felt him there in those minutes out in the cosmos, her sudden vision.

“Where were you?” He asked, and he sounded concerned, and she felt that there was still a tangle between them, consternation within him.  He thought she felt cold.  “Are you alright?”

“I’m more than alright,” she reassured him, feeling loose and languid despite the pounding of her heart.

The world had crashed back in.

She was tucked under his chin; she didn’t have to meet his gaze.  “What do we do about this.”

“Which part?” His deep voice rumbled against her cheek. 

She gestured at the vision of the throne room, which was quiet and still.  No fire.  No guards.  “This.  Your leadership.”  She sighed, still content and his warmth still burning in her chest, but it had to be said.  “Us.”

His arms tightened, bands of flame and marvelous strength, pride flared.  “I’ll be here for as long as you’ll have me.”

“No one can know,” but the words felt used and stale and useless on her tongue.

His fingers dug into her hair at the base of her skull, massaging at tightness that she hadn’t realized was there.  Storms of rage and fire were quiet, were burning low and even.  He was resolute.  “I won’t cross the line in public, Rey.  I promise.”

She took a deep breath.  There was more that she wanted to say. 

She didn’t know how.

Something else prickled at the base of her skull.

She was on her feet, her lightsaber against her palm instantly, staring at him.  “Did you feel that?”

He rose as well, quite the sight before the throne, but incomplete.  He didn’t seem to have his weapon.  “Yes.  I know who it is.”

She stared at him.  “Where is your lightsaber?”

“I left it on the Silencer.  I don’t know how to cleanse it.”

She called one of the abandoned lightsabers in the craft to her and left it spinning between them.  “Well.  What kind of teacher would I be if I did not provide you with a training blade?”

He chuckled in his throat.  “This is where I would say thank you, Master.”

“Save it for an audience,” she inhaled, wondering if the others had felt the threat.  “Is he coming here?”

“They,” he said quietly, “are coming here.”

“That’s . . .” she thought about the base, the chaos that could ensue.  “Better than the alternative, I guess.  Do they always move in pairs?”

“Generally, yes.”

“Your mother only saw three.”

“There are not many left.  She might be right.”

Rey rolled her shoulders, began to stretch, her mind flickering through the past.  “If there are only two, there is no need to send an alert, correct?  Should I call Annju?”

His lips curled at the mention of her name.  “Anyone but that woman.”

“Poe?” Rey said with a laugh, bending low into her stretch.

He was silent for a heartbeat too long.  She looked over her shoulder, seeing his furrowed brow.  Her breath hitched as he flitted to her side, gathering her up into his arms.  He had moved so quickly she barely had a chance to laugh – and he wasn’t laughing.  His grip was forceful and promising, suddenly the embers were stoking to a blaze.  “You like it when I’m jealous, don’t you,” he breathed.

The anticipation was such a rush for her.  Every time she was in his arms.  It felt new and exciting and surreal.

She leaned back against him, savoring this moment, judging his emotions.  “What is with your hatred of him?  I honestly don’t get it.”

He was so tense and she sensed confusion as she relaxed into him, feeling the warmth and power bleeding into her.  Nothing else was like this.

He murmured, “Is this another thing I thought you knew?”

His flicker of hatred suddenly felt more like fear, and she cocked her head, thinking.  “I don’t know what you mean.”

He sighed, and a couple images – visions? – bled through to her.  They were older, but clear and drenched in bitterness.

Poe, holding her hand at the base, laughing. 

Poe embracing her.

Poe sitting with her in the grass of her field, drawing her down for a kiss.

She started a bit at that last one, pushing against his arms but he only tightened his grasp, inhaling deeply, drawing her scent in, and his desire punched through her, leaving her breathless.  She loved how broad he was, how he had to hunch his shoulders to engulf her and how he shuddered when he was overcome with emotion.  What wasn’t given away on his face surged through his muscles and tendons.  He vibrated now, and she reached a hand up to tangle in his hair, ran her fingers down his neck, as he steadied himself.  He exhaled, kissed her right below her jawline.  She felt so warm and content.  Then he angled his mouth, sucking against her skin and she was alert, alive, hissing, “Yes.”

“I have been tortured by those flickers of a future I wanted so desperately to prevent,” he growled, his hands starting to roam and she gasped as he cupped her breasts.  He started to massage her and she was molten and moaning but still a piece of her had room to be incredulous – he had really thought –

“I imagined you like this, moaning for him, sunk in my deepest pit of self-loathing.  It wasn’t until I touched you for the first time while you were eating lunch with him that I realized I may not have waited too long.  Perhaps he hadn’t made his play.  Even if he had, perhaps I still had time.”

“I didn’t know,” she breathed.  “I would not have made jokes.”

“I see that now,” he growled against the shell of her ear, and one hand was flat against her stomach, her breath was quick and wild.  “I want to make you scream again.”

She bucked slightly, his large hand a promise and a brand, the words sinking into her skin, but – “And I want to fuck you against a wall, but we don’t have time for that right now.”

He groaned, his hands sliding back to her waist, one shallow thrust of his hips arresting her, teetering on the brink as he nipped her ear.  “Why did you have to say that, my dear.”

She twisted, lashed into his mouth with her tongue, once, twice.  “Just so you know for the future.”  He didn’t have a monopoly on words etched in flame.  She steadied herself, drawing his heat into her through the kiss, sighing with the warmth and exquisiteness of it.  She drew back, calmer.  “Tell me what’s coming.”

He bowed slightly, his eyes still smoldering, kissed her fingers.  “Nothing I cannot handle for you, my dear.”

They exited the craft, waited on the lakeshore.  Rey began to meditate.

She was alone in an ocean, her mind on Coruscant. Why had these two come?

She came back to the present, some rocks around her crashing to the ground unheeded, as he cut through the air, spinning and twisting, his teeth grit in determination.

He seemed fine, indeed never had she seen him so bright, what –

Ah.

The one was taunting him, targeting her. “Looks like she likes being on her knees – did you train her for that?”

Annju settled beside her.  “This sounds fun.”

Rey snorted, smiled at the other woman, winced as she thought back through consciousness – “Want to share, Kylo?  Maybe she’d like my dick better than yours.”

“Master Horn gave me a lift,” Annju said, as if that explained anything.  “These two seem more than manageable.  What is waiting for us on Coruscant?”

“A few more,” Rey murmured.  “Some sort of mutiny.”  She sent him a pulse of energy, focusing, with him as he twirled through a final combination and lodged his new lightsaber in the other man’s gut.

Exhaled.  “You’ll come?”

“Of course.  I would like to bring Sabe.”

“Tradition dictates that you should,” she told her.

The second Knight had pulled out from the fight, had re-boarded his ship and taken off, away from them.  She didn’t try to follow.

No matter which way she had pushed and pulled, the Force was still painfully unclear around these Knights of Ren.

She voiced her frustration to him and Annju as they reboarded the craft, she paced the training chamber.  “Darkness lies before you.  I cannot stop thinking about it.”

“Who said that?” he asked her, his gaze intent.

She cleared her throat uncomfortably.

“I heard him too,” Annju said softly.  “Anakin Skywalker.”

She felt a twinge from him, he sneered, “I thought you didn’t believe in that myth, Torkana.”

“Didn’t think you did either, Solo.”

“Fascinating,” she interrupted them before it got worse.  Turned back to him.  “What else did that Knight say to you?”

His mouth became angry and hard.  “Nothing of importance.”

She shook her head impatiently.  “Not the one you stopped. The one who left.”

“They were sent to see if it is true.”  The line of his shoulders was set, a challenge to Annju, his resolve thrumming through the floorboards and into the soles of her boots.  “To see if Kylo Ren is dead.”

She didn’t say anything, seeing that he didn’t know who had sent them, and she didn’t know, and there was no need to acknowledge old news.  

Though it felt familiar.  Too familiar.

“The Sith can hide in plain sight,” she murmured.  “Palpatine was a Senator, a politician, for many years.”

“The power you give me I will lay down when this crisis has abated.”

She shook her head, the old holocron she’d seen jumping to her unheeded.

Annju buzzed in her periphery.  “Well is he?”

“What?”  Rey had been turning the obvious over in her mind, the might of stars and destroyers.

“Is he dead?”

“Don’t indulge his theatrics,” Rey told Annju, just as he had started –

“Kylo Ren – ”

He turned to look at her, his hair falling in his eyes, mussed from the fight and her fingers, and she lost her thread of the quip, couldn’t help but think what it would feel like if they stole some moments alone, if he was able to stretch out against her, pounding and relentless –

“ – might still be around if that is your preference, Master.”

She rolled her eyes, but she saw her desire reflected back to her and it was hard to swallow.  “Hilarious.  Satisfied, Annju?”

Annju sighed.  “I cannot believe I have to work with another Solo.  I had been convinced that this chapter of my life was complete.”

“Interesting family,” Rey agreed as she led them back through the ship to the gangway.  “Let’s bring Horn and another pair with us.  I’m sure they are all ready.”

“Of course, Master Skywalker,” Annju smiled at her.  “When should we be ready to leave?”

“As soon as possible,” she was trying to ascertain what stages the fleet was in.  Bustling, unnerved.  Purposeful.  “They seem like they will be ready to leave soon.”

“I have to retrieve a couple things from my ship,” he rumbled as she concentrated on the landing sequence, easing the craft.

“Stay close to me,” she told him.  She flipped the gangway manually, half surprised as it lowered that no one had come to meet the ship.  “I won’t be able to leave you anywhere alone.”

His emotions were contained because of Annju’s presence, but she still felt a pang of his desire – it drew her to the hot gaze he shot behind the woman’s back.  “Everything is going according to plan.”

“Maybe if you had clued me in on this plan – ”

“You would never have agreed, I – ”

“Not everything has to be a thrill, a – ”

“This was not about a hunt – ”

“You just wanted to say you’d won – ”

“Finding you was only half the game.”

They alighted from the craft onto the grass and she paused to stare at him.  Half the game.

Annju’s presence nudged her and she waved a farewell.  Winced at her palpable amusement.

“I’m sure you’ll win.”  His voice was low, almost indecipherable, smoky.  A ghost skimmed across her lips, brushed her cheekbone and she caught herself leaning forward.  “Also you’re incredible.  Want to come back to my place?”

How she wished they were alone.

But she could already feel the restlessness of Finn, the anger of Poe, the anxiousness of Rose.  They were at the Silencer.

“You have company,” she said, wresting her gaze from his.  “Let’s get this over with.”

Notes:

This is the last chapter I wrote before seeing TROS. Next thought: so much retconning in TROS! But what else was JJ supposed to do? How do you build a citadel from ash?

We don't know how she fixed the lightsaber. The Resistance is magically larger than the four people who can fit on the Falcon. Kylo Ben is distracted by the dead alive so he isn't looking for her. There are several new Resistance fighters Who Have Been There The Whole Time. Rose and Finn didn't happen and Rose and Connix are barely there because the patriarchy (I can only assume).

You were a scavenger! You were a stormtrooper! We could do this all day!

Are there literally no other professions in this galaxy besides 1) royalty 2) politician 3) desert human 4) Jedi 5) stormtrooper 6) rebel and 7) smuggler?!??!

I digress.

Chapter 17: The Rule of Two

She started back toward the parade ground, down the hill where she’d landed the Jedi craft, toward the seething mess that was her friends.  He fell in line just over her shoulder, shadowing her as he had aboard the Supremacy.  Though his back was straight, his posture military perfect, she sensed his weariness and – she had to concentrate just a fraction more – a throb of pain.

He snorted.  “I am well.”  Satisfaction curled like a rope around her ankles, so solid she almost tripped from it.  His voice lashed with it, a beam of sunshine and it speared her through, deep and warm, “I am with you.”

“You still need rest,” she snapped, unsettled by his acuity.  “You’re always telling me that I need sleep.”

“You stopped sleeping regularly.”

“Whose fault is that?” she mumbled, straightening her own shoulders as people began to notice them, as they approached the resumed hustle and bustle of preparing the fleet.  She nodded stiffly at a pilot she knew, but he just stared, slack-jawed.  A frustrated noise escaped her throat.  “Stars, you’ve made my life kriffing difficult.”

“I’ve made your life difficult?” he was wry and his unshakable confidence buffeted her side with every step.  Her irritation attempted to rise.  She breathed deep.  “I’m giving up galactic domination.”

She blew out an explosive sigh.  “I’m devastated for you.”

“I knew you cared.”  His tone was light, but then his aura tinged sour.  “No one else will.”

She was trying not to catch anyone else’s eye while monitoring the sensations of all the world coming through her from the tips of her toes and the humid air against her skin.  She suddenly didn’t have time for this. “You’re wrong,” she said shortly.  “You’ll see.”

She felt his concern flare behind her, and she sighed.  “Keeping you alive might prove a full-time job.”

No remorse from him.  Just that smug satisfaction bleeding through shades of fatigue. 

But they made it to the Silencer without incident.  She reminded him, before they made a turn around part of the flight crew prepping Red Squadron, Behave.

He was chaffing at being in public, she could tell.  His weariness was deep set and made his thoughts a bit frayed.  He was staring at her neck.

She swallowed, taking in the sight before her.

Rose, Poe, Finn, and Harding were standing among debris from the Silencer.  Although, more accurately, a collection containing his wardrobe, some rations, various books and digital storage units, a peculiar looking chest.  A flight helmet.

A pang of wrongness. 

His lightsaber.

Another woman who was helping sort some of the clothing saw them first and she dropped a boot she had been holding.  His spark of satisfaction warmed Rey into something like amusement.  But she had fallen into an ocean, deep and tempestuous, filled with the storms of the souls around her.  Her own temperament was an inlet, calm and still.

“Commander Skywalker,” the woman snapped to attention.  To her credit, she only flickered her gaze behind Rey once.

This alerted the others, who immediately looked up.

“Commander Skywalker?” he softly sounded somewhere between incredulous and awed behind her.  They all call you this.  

She crossed her arms across her chest, ignoring him.  Pinned Poe with a stare.  “Explain, please.”

“You told me not to blow it up,” he said, shooting daggers behind her.  His hostility clawed at the surface of her lake, but she did not let it move her further, kept her voice even.

“So you ransacked it instead?”

“We had to scan for tracking and explosives,” Poe told her, his jaw working when he snapped it shut.

“Which included spreading everything he owns across the grass.”

“He owns planets larger than ours,” Finn’s arms were also crossed, his head tilted.  “I think he can stand us rifling through a few trinkets.”

She realized a portion of her gaining annoyance had to do with her near-certainty that her ruined tunic was somewhere in this pile and she didn’t want to answer those questions.  She took a breath – thinking, I am one with the Force – got the distinct impression that he was still amused.  He probably wanted Poe to find it. 

She gritted her teeth.  “Ben, you know Finn and Poe.”  She didn’t give them time to acknowledge each other or even think about it.  “Rose, this is Ben.  Ben, Rose.”

“That’s perhaps the most you’ve ever said my name,” he murmured, almost imperceptibly.

She felt a pang of self-consciousness, but Rose was reaching across the distance between them, for his hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ben,” she said, her smile not even forced.  Not surprising, Rey guessed.  She eyed him sideways, arrested for a moment.  He looked almost relaxed.  Different.  As she had noted in the past – charismatic.  “For the record, I was not in favor of spreading your things on the ground.”

Rey laughed suddenly, seeing how bemused he looked at Rose’s touch, her casual words.

He offered the other woman half a smile, which made Rose’s smile widen.  “Thank you, Rose.  I see that you are a good friend to Rey.”

“The best,” Rose winked at Rey, who blinked.  Realized what Rose had folded neatly and unobtrusively under her arm.

Rey wasn’t smiling any more.  She needed a moment.

She grabbed his arm and propelled them backwards, away from the shambles of the Silencer.  Away from some of the prying eyes.  Her back to her friends.  Only the landing strip and jungle before her. 

His amusement turned to concern as he became hyper alert, his arm tensing beneath her fingers, his eyes scanning the terrain around them, protectiveness flaring and raging against her skin.  She tried not to flinch as she felt it, tried to remove her hand with grace, but she moved it too quick.  He looked down at her, the concern coloring his dark eyes.  “I was not ready for this,” she murmured, clasping her hands in front of her, staring at the sky.  

He stood ramrod straight, his own hands clasped behind him, and she knew he was still looking at her, his expression schooled impassive.  “The girl clearly had that under control.”

Poe’s glare was beating a tattoo into the back of her skull.  Finn wanted to hover, knew she was upset.  General Calrissian was coming out of the hangar.

She closed her eyes. 

The pain lanced through her mind again, reminding her of earlier, reminding her –

“Your hate has made you powerful.”

She’d raised a hand to her temple, perhaps made a noise, lost track of a moment in time.

His concern flared fiercely against the pain, counteracting, searching –

Rose was there, a hand on her shoulder.  “Rey?”

His anger was mounting, spiraling, and he made a sudden move toward the Silencer –

She had to dive sideways, away from Rose, intercepting a stun and shedding it like lightning into the ground.  She landed on her hands, parallel with the earth, aftershocks of energy coursing through her, clearheaded.

She laughed.

A lightning rod.

Attracting power, ire, diverting the crackling force harmlessly away.

Hiding in plain sight.

A depthless mind.  She had sensed it.

She recentered, recognizing the commotion around her.  She turned over, flipped quickly to her feet, her hands rising to placate Poe, who was still holding the blaster that had discharged at Ben, his face a cross between horror and fury.

He wasn’t the only one armed – several more blasters were aimed at her and Ben’s lightsaber was drawn, humming with its own song behind her.

“That wasn’t going to hit me,” he rasped.  Furious.  Chaos.

“No, because I’m faster than you,” she retorted, glancing sideways at Rose, who was glaring at Poe.  Refocused on Poe.  No need for an enemy, and this tinderbox merely needed a spark to go up in flames.  “And much faster than you, Poe.  Please put that down before I have to do something you’ll regret.”

“How can we trust him?” Poe demanded.  His embarrassment lashed out as anger, uncertainty.  “He only cares about you.  He’d watch the world burn.”

“Which I would not want, and therefore he would not do,” her words were measured and even.  The shock had brought her focus, she had known this moment loomed in front of her for months.  This was not how she had imagined it, yet he had given her all the ammunition she needed. 

She knew he could feel her sudden confidence and sincerity.  Here they were.  You’ve found me. 

She inhaled, his presence fueling the clarity and fire in her veins.  “He is my apprentice and you will show him respect.”

“Kylo Ren, Master of the Knights of Ren, an apprentice,” Poe scoffed.  “I didn’t believe what they said.”

“Everyone heard him, Poe,” Rose was angry.  Rey was flattered.  “Just because we didn’t doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.  You saw him kneel.”

“Kylo Ren is dead,” Ben said behind them, sheathing his blade, but his voice was harsh, unsteady.  None of his theatrics remained. 

Her confidence in him had not belayed the strength of the rage or assuaged the chaos.  Indeed, it was making him worse – he was flying apart and he did not want to disappoint her, he could not fail her again –

She turned to face him, the anger lashing through her like a firestorm.  His fists were clenched, and he was shaking with it, his belongings, the Silencer, were shaking with it – he hissed, “Tell me it’s not true.”

Her body buzzed with his tension.  “I can’t.”

He was so tired and he wanted to break and yell and storm and kill.  His twisted and dark kyber inside his old lightsaber hummed behind them.  She shivered with its dark melody, pushed it away.  “Breathe, Ben,” she said softly, and she pulled out Luke’s lightsaber.  “Let go of your anger.”

She came at him suddenly, but of course he reacted and they were moving back and forth, he was trying, he was so weary –

The match only lasted five minutes, and she ended it by pinning him, her legs around his hips and him blocking her blade inches from his throat.

He was in no danger.  She murmured.  “Get some sleep.  I will keep watch.”

His rage had burned down.  He mustered a quirk in his lips, a thought about her legs wrapped around him.  Her skin burned.  “I’d do anything to hold you in my arms, my scavenger.”

She smiled, giving him peace and warmth and drawing his attention to the sun, the grass beneath them.  This was private, using the cover of the fight, the hum of the light, to talk in public.  The feel of him between her legs making her heady.  Flushed.   “Not tonight.  Not because I don’t want to.”

They both powered down, Rey extricated herself and helped him up.

Rose was clapping.  Rey shot her a look.  Her friend shrugged.  “What?  You’re a great teacher, Rey.”

Rey declined to respond to that absurdity.  “Pack everything up, we need to leave and the Silencer needs to be on the flagship.”  She turned back to him.  “Get what you need.”

He retrieved what was clearly a go bag and the strange looking chest but did not resume his position at her shoulder.

She had just hissed, “I expected better of you,” to Finn, who shrugged helplessly, when she realized he hadn’t moved but he was so tired that his emotions had barely changed.  Perhaps trepidation, which was . . . new.

General Calrissian was standing at the edge of the debris – the woman Rey didn’t know and Harding had stopped trying to collect and repack things around him – holding something in his hands.  Staring at it.

“General Calrissian,” Rey acknowledged, but she wasn’t sure what to say.  Wasn’t sure who he was to Leia and Han and Ben.  Wasn’t sure what – she craned her neck to see what lay beneath his fingers – a blaster?

“Uncle.”  Trepidation.  Loss.

“Ben.”  The general’s face was lined with grief.  “You kept this all these years?”

“Yes.”

“Wasn’t sure you even got it,” Lando whispered.

“Stole the key from – ” Ben cut himself off, his jaw working.  Rey still heard - my father.  “Lifted the box when you weren’t paying attention.”

The man broke into a smile, suddenly, and Rey felt some piece of Ben relax.  “You old scoundrel,” he tossed the blaster to Ben, who caught it – barely.  “Come here.  What did I say kid?”  He slapped Ben on the back as he hugged him, which appeared to confuse him, and everyone else.  “I’d be here.  In case your old man couldn’t be.”

“Not under these circumstances, you imagined,” Ben muttered.  Grief.  Remorse.  Anakin Skywalker levels of regret and sorrow.

General Calrissian held him by the shoulders, staring hard into his face.  “Leia forgave you.  I’m taking my cue from her.”

“I’m not sure ‘forgive’ is the correct word.”

“You look dead on your feet.”

“I just told him he needed rest,” Rey interjected.

“Ok hold on.  What the kriffing hell just happened?” Poe spluttered behind them.

Rey was feeling particularly uncharitable.  “I’m half a mind to let you find out in the briefing with everyone else.” Ben staggered slightly, and Rey slipped an arm under his, steadying him.  The warmth of a sun at high noon.  She had to take care not to stumble herself.  “But I have to make sure that this lug doesn’t die when I’m not paying attention.  So I’m going to have to postpone a briefing – General, the situation has changed.”

“What did you see, Rey?”  Rose, being the only patient and level-minded person around, got straight to the point.

She inhaled, his tension a solid thrum against her side.  He made a noise that sounded like a snarl.  “There are plans for a coup during the celebration.  I suspect orchestrated by Admiral Hux, who appears to have usurped the Knights of Ren – which stands to reason if he is indeed a Sith.”

“Hux?” Finn said incredulously.  “Ren’s punching bag?”

“The Knights of Ren?” Rose sounded worried.

“The Rule of Two,” Ben hissed.  “Snoke must have been grooming another successor.  And when he died that left an opening for him – when I turned, I am sure he told the Knights of Ren he would chose an apprentice from among them.”

“Didn’t Snoke break the Rule of a Two with the Knights of Ren?” Rey asked, her mind having struggled with this in the past.

“They are not Sith.  But some of them are very powerful.”

The general had been speaking into his comm, and Rey took this as an exit strategy.  “I’m going to find someplace where Ben can sleep.  We’ll regroup when he wakes.”

“What happened to him?” Rose asked suddenly.  “He seemed fine when he got here.”

“Somewhat true,” Rey pushed him up and ducked out from under his arm.  He had rightened himself, his massive shoulders straightening, ready to walk to the flagship.  Pulling away was harder than she had imagined, and she had to pause for longer than seemed necessary.  She cleared her throat.  “He dispatched one of the Knights.  Took a toll.”

Rey tuned out the questions on that piece of information and pointed Ben toward the flagship.  He stepped behind her, resuming his place at her shoulder.  Warmth still bled into her, and she thought, I could get used to this.  She waved at the group, not really paying attention – they were done here – “Master Torkana is available for a debrief on that encounter.  Until tomorrow, General.”

Notes:

Man February was a crazy month. This chapter slightly influenced by TRoS - Ben uses the blaster Lando gave him on his way to help Rey, and I had to include it.

I am working with the theory that Ben Solo and Kylo Ren are separate entities - one of the reasons why Lando would forgive him.

And look - Hux was really the only option here. Didn't really have much to work with in the villain department after Last Jedi.

Chapter 18: I'm Taking This Chance

She commed Connix, who put in a last-minute request with the flagship quartermaster for a cabin farthest from Sabe but closest to Rey and Annju for “Master Skywalker’s new apprentice.”

He had regained his composure as he stalked through the base and onto the flagship behind her.  He was a blur of confusion – betrayal and hurt and anger aimed at Hux, concern and guilt swirling against her, exhaustion after confronting Vader, running himself ragged for days, and then fighting and killing his former ally.  Some measure of ease.  He was here, with her.

She was already half in a meditative state, as she had been since the approach of the Knights of Ren, but it still took more willpower than she had bargained for to close his door as his eyes bored into hers and he said, “I’ll dream of you.”

She exhaled and folded herself into a comfortable pose, slipping into the Force.

He slept.

Rose had sent her a message that she would join her after her shift, so she was not interrupted for several hours.  

When she was, Rose hugged her, warm and strong.  “Rose,” she sighed.  “I don’t feel guilty.  I almost feel guilty for not feeling like I’ve done something wrong.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” Rose said adamantly.  “Really, what you’ve done is astonishing.  Bringing someone back from the dark side – you told me before Luke’s father, no one thought it could be done.”

“Not even Yoda,” Rey whispered.  “A shot in the dark.”

“You seemed unwell at the Silencer,” Rose said.  “Are you alright?”

“I am always fine,” Rey muttered.  She glanced sideways at Rose, who did not look impressed.  “But there is a lot on my mind.”  The silence stretched for a moment as she inhaled, exhaled.  Listened to him breathe.  His rest had been mostly undisturbed.  His exhaustion made him defenseless, slipping easily into slumber.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Rose said softly.

“Everything was upended when I saw him,” she breathed, the words rushing out of her, sudden and needed and jagged.  “It sparked a chain of events that cascaded beyond my control.”

“You seem in control to me,” Rose told her, and her honesty was transparent but unreliable.

“Of course you’d say that,” Rey smiled.  “I’ve been having trouble shaping my path beyond the moment.  The future is always changing.”

“That’s true for everyone.  From the stories, most Jedi could not see very far into the future at all.  Right?”

“Yes,” she admitted, but it felt like a weakness.  “But I am not most Jedi.  I should have seen the others, Annju and Horn and Sabe.  I should have seen – I should have seen him coming.”

“You weren’t looking,” Rose echoed a thought she’d had herself.  “Why look for the impossible?”

“When I realized that he –” she dropped her voice lower, even now having trouble uttering his name, “wasn’t in-between any more.  He’s Leia and Han’s son.  I should have known.”

Rose shrugged.  “In retrospect, I’m not surprised.  But he took an insane risk.  I don’t think you could have predicted it.”

Rey flopped backwards onto the ground.  “I was distracted,” she whispered.  “I had a vision yesterday.  I realized that my parents were Jedi and that he might have –” she paused.  This was so fresh. “My parents are dead.”

“Oh,” Rose gasped.

“I already knew they were dead.”

“You don’t think –”

“I don’t know.”  She swallowed.  “I don’t know if I want to know.  He thought I had at least remembered being at Luke’s Temple as a child, that I might have known.  I did not know.”  Rose was silent, staring.  “If I had known, I do not think it would have changed my mind, not after Han.  But I wish I had had some time.”

“What did he have to say for himself?”

“He doesn’t know who they were,” she didn’t feel him stirring, felt secure in this moment, secluded, protected.  “He told me he would spend the rest of his life atoning for his sins.  That was before he got here.”

“And there was no hint that he was coming, that he was considering this?”

“Vader shook him to his core,” Rey said with confidence.  “The darkness called to him, twisted in him.  Raged through him, and he couldn’t fight it and fight at my side at the same time.  I think it was humbling.  Frightened him.”

“Changed his mind?”

“Maybe his mind had already been set.”  She didn’t know.  What did she know.  “But he is more determined than ever.  More himself.”  She remembered his sojourn to an unknown planet – a flash, suddenly – Naboo?  She had sensed unrest during the elections there. Perhaps that was how she recognized its queen.  “He went to retrieve something,” she murmured.  “After Vader.  He was in mourning, his failure surging through him.  He channeled that energy to get here.”

“What did he need?”

“I don’t know,” she could not see. “But his heart is easier now that he has it.”

Rose studied her carefully in the silence that followed.  “Are you happy?”

“I’m worried,” she blurted out, and sat back up, cross legged.  “If he could barely withstand a simulacrum, how will he withstand Admiral Hux?”

It felt like a betrayal as soon as the words crossed her lips.  She bit them, grateful that he could not hear her.  “I don’t understand how I feel.  On the one hand, I know he’s changed, he is no longer Kylo Ren, but on the other hand I am afraid for him, I want to protect him.  I don’t want him to fail.”

“You’re not afraid of him?” Rose was staring at her intently.

“No?”  Rey remembered the feeling of him choking her in her dream.  A real memory – his eyes when he’d tied her down and riffled through her mind.

His energy had confused her then, the first time she had spoken with him.  She’d felt that he was drawn to her, but that he clamped down on that feeling, was confused by it himself.  His arrogance had encompassed her, challenged her.  He had taken off his mask to startle her, to appeal to her sense of humanity.  He had dug through her mind and told her of her own fears and sadness.  Tried to empathize with her, as if he was relearning such a capacity.  “We’ll see.”

But she had shaken him.  Had told him his deepest fear.

And even then.

Even then.  Before they had spoken, she had awakened to him kneeling before her, waiting for her.  A silent vigil.  She had forgotten.

She shivered.  “Not anymore.  He’s always wanted me.  He’s never wanted to hurt me.”

And anyway.  “I’m stronger than him.  He’d lose.”

“Of course he would,” Rose waved that away.  “That’s not a question anymore.”  She sent Rey a knowing glance.  “It’s clear what is going on here.”

Rey blinked.  “What?”

“You’d protect him, wouldn’t you?”

She frowned.  “Yes.”

“And you’re worried about him?”

“I just said that.”

“And you want to jump his bones.”

“Rose,” she hissed.

“You love him,” Rose whispered, half-triumphantly.

“But I don’t trust him,” Rey sighed heavily.

“You didn’t deny it!” Rose crowed before looking apologetic at Rey’s shush.

“I’m close,” she whispered.  “When I saw him resist Vader.  When he pledged himself to me.  That shook me.  His conviction, his purpose insurmountable.”

“Hot,” Rose rolled her eyes.

Rey slumped onto the ground again.

“I do not pledge fealty lightly.”

“I believe him,” she whispered.  “Maybe I do trust him.” She thought back through the last twenty-four hours, it felt like one hundred years.  “He was very convincing.  But there’s something bothering him – this thread of despair and hopelessness.  Consternation.  I cannot figure it out.”

“Maybe you should tell him,” Rose raised an eyebrow.  “I had to kiss Finn.”

“Yes, but I already did that,” Rey huffed, almost laughed.

“Yes, but did you talk about . . . Your relationship?”

“I’ve told him,” she gritted out. “No one can know.”

Rose tilted her head, “Why?”

“I will not be seen as weak,” she felt off-balance, heated.  This was important.  “I will not be compromised.”

Rose was quiet.  Then, “Perhaps that is hard for him.”

She snorted.  “That man has enough confidence in his left pinky to fill a Bothan.”

“But also from what you’ve said he has at least one insecurity – you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve said he was jealous of Poe.  Furious when you doubted him.  Perhaps he thinks you don’t feel the same way.”

“He knows I want him,” she hissed quietly.

“That’s not the same thing,” Rose said gently.  “Think about it.”

“He agreed,” she said hollowly.  “He would behave in public.”

“That is also entirely different,” Rose was almost laughing at her, she could tell.  “He respects you.  So you set ground rules at least?”

She felt hot.  Cleared her throat.  “I told him he can’t touch me in public.  And that he can only call me Master in public.”

Rose was laughing now, listing sideways against the corridor wall.  “Amazing.  Truly amazing.”

“Shut up,” she groused.

Rose thankfully changed the subject to the other Jedi, her admiration for Masters Horn and Torkana.  Her worry that Finn was chafing, in need of more responsibility and full of ideas about the indoctrination program the First Order had used on the children they took.  Rey thought as Rose talked that Finn would be a diplomat, an advocate one day.

She finally felt him stirring, and her heart caught in her throat.

Rose felt her tenseness.  “Rey?”  She motioned behind her, clearing her throat.  “Oh.  Oh.”

“I’m going to try to get some sleep,” she muttered.  “Then we will join the briefing in the morning on the situation on Coruscant.  Let General Calrissian know.”

“Of course,” Rose scrambled to her feet as Rey rose.

He surged awake, the bond connecting them and allowing her to see right through the door.  He was staring at her, upright, shirtless.  Her mouth fell open.

He licked his lips, fire burning in his eyes.  “Come in?  Join me.”  

She shook her head to clear it, refocused on Rose.  “Thanks for keeping me company, Rose.”

“Please.”

Her throat closed.  “I have,” she had to swallow.  “Have to go deal with mister broken transmitter in there.”

Rose looked like she was swallowing her tongue instead of laughing.  “Good luck.”

She turned back surreptitiously, trying to ignore the occasional crew member walking through the corridor.  “Put some clothes on,” she hissed.

He smirked and leaned forward, hair falling in his eyes.  “Not when I might convince you to join me.”

“I cannot,” she murmured, kneeling back in her meditative pose.  She did not want to attract attention.

A wave of heat washed out from his eyes and swept through her to her core.  “Never thought I’d get you on your knees.”

“Don’t push your luck,” she gritted, floating, trying to block him, to remain grounded.

He projected even more of his desire, his chin tilting up as he leaned back, showing off his pecs and murmuring, “But you could be kneeling over me instead.  I’ve imagined it many times.”

She was an ocean, his words buffeting her but she was afloat.  “As tempting as that may be,” it still was.  It was. “I don’t want anyone catching me in your quarters.”

He flowed out of the bed, towering over her, and she had to shut her eyes, breathe deep, center herself.  She was angry.  This was ridiculous.  She should enjoy this while it lasted, should be able to burn herself on the might of the sun.

But there was no privacy.

As she thought about it, she realized it would be hard for them to get privacy, perhaps ever again.  So many things demanded her time and attention.  And she had a world, people, the other Jedi to protect.

She had a job to do.

If she wanted this, she was either going to have to be very careful, or not care what anyone said or thought, or both.

Perhaps both.

She didn’t really care what others said, or he wouldn’t be here right now.  But she had meant what she said to Rose.  She would not be seen as weak.

And she needed to see how this would work.

She needed to weigh secrecy against time and opportunity.  They were both here, now.  She should take advantage.

He opened the door, startling her from her reverie.  She unfolded herself to her feet, staring up at him.  Up and up.  He’d put his uniform back on.  He looked impressive.  Etched in stone.  Flawless.

“Keep looking at me like that,” he inhaled, and it was like he was drawing in her essence, burning with the life inside her, the river of energy and life.  His jaw worked like he was restraining himself, choosing his battle.  I’ll change your mind yet.

She caught herself leaning forward and instead walked away down the corridor, her thoughts snarled and conflicted.  Her presence was obviously also affecting him.  He hadn’t closed off his thoughts – all he wanted was to bury himself inside her, deep and hard and rough –

Just like she wanted.

She couldn’t help a slight noise of discomfort – unsatisfied, always unsatisfied, and for what? – she felt this echo of need, she imagined him fucking her too.

She turned abruptly at the door to her quarters, almost making him run into her.  “I’m going to get some sleep.  You’ll stand watch?”

“Of course, Master,” he nodded, but his eyes were hooded and smug.  The smugness was prickling and roiling and a tease.  “Though you won’t be able to sleep.  Let me know if . . . I can be of service.”

She rolled her eyes and closed the door in his face.

Tried not to feel.

She lay down and immediately saw the problem.  It was so easy to just curl up in the glow of his presence and feel his mood sway.  She thought it might lull her to sleep eventually, but she wasn’t as tired as he had been.  

And he wasn’t playing fair, he wasn’t meditating, he was reliving their earlier encounter aboard the Jedi ship.

He was pinning her thighs, licking her to the edge and she was shaking, it felt almost real, the memory.  She gasped.

He knelt in a meditative pose outside her door, whispering, “I’m waiting for you.”  The memory she had been dwelling on earlier, when he’d read her mind a thousand suns ago, on a machine engulfed in flame, echoed. “I’m on my knees.  At your mercy.”

What if he was in her quarters for a short while?  Perhaps no one would notice.

His fingers were digging into her flesh, he had her at his mercy.  His words dug into her mind.

Please.

What did she gain from resisting this?

She wanted him at her mercy.

She was curled on her side, and she buried her face in the pillow, letting out a frustrated groan.  Fine.

She yelped – which quickly turned to a moan.  He’d moved impossibly fast, slipping through the door and stretching out behind her in a blur of movement, wrapping his fingers in her hair and sliding one huge palm across her stomach.

He inhaled next to her ear, and she tilted her neck into the pressure from his fingers as they tugged gently on the ties securing the buns.  “My lady,” he purred.  “I knew you’d see it my way.  What do you want?  Anything.”

She had arched against him, and she had to catch her breath.  “Lie back.”

He grunted, nipped her earlobe.  His warmth receded behind her and she turned toward him, taking a moment to just stare, to relish the gentle massage against her scalp.  He looked at ease, his confidence bled into the sheets, the oxygen and dust motes around them.  A smirk played across his lips, and she felt him withdraw slightly, wasn’t sure what he was playing at.  Assurance and passion, nothing else from him, clear and simple and bright. She was losing herself in it again – when she was this close to him it was the most intoxicating sense of power she had ever experienced.  She swallowed, stunned by the intensity. 

“How long will they miss me outside your door, my dear.”

She huffed, and kicked out so that she could leverage herself over him even as he wouldn’t let go of her hair, each little tug making her breath unsteady and quick.  She braced herself on his shoulders as she settled over his hips.  Exhaling, she felt as though she was breathing fire, curling her fingers into his uniform.  He looked so good in black.

“What would they say, if they knew you were taking advantage of your new apprentice?” he breathed, drawing her down to his lips.   He tilted her head, licked deep into her mouth, leisurely, wanton and without a care in the world.  “Who only wants to please you.”

She kissed him back, savoring this moment even as the words made a flicker of panic rise in her chest.  But still, his mouth was hot and sin and he was so warm and familiar.  Safe.

Rey drew back, having startled herself.  Safe.  She smoothed her thumb across his lips, contact sparking through her.  She didn’t have much time and her brain was moving slow.

“If you want to please me,” she murmured.  “Unzip.”

He laughed as she focused on fighting off her leggings, leaning further into his chest and he had to let go of her hair to steady her.  She laughed a bit too, until when she straightened, he palmed her breast and she gasped.  Her nails only dug into the fabric covering his chest and she wished his flesh was beneath her fingers, but he looked stunning, picture perfect.  The Supreme Leader, in her bed, uniform and all.  He earned a strangled moan when he pinched her nipple, heat and lust swirling between them.  His hands moved to his zipper as she slid back on his hip bones, fumbling to help him.

His cock sprang free, and his satisfaction at her inhale pierced her chest, hot and searing.  “I’m ready for you, my lady,” he smirked.

She gripped his length, pumping him once slowly.  The mirth drained from his face, and he hissed, his hips canting toward her as she slid her palm down the shaft again, slick with precome.  “I’ve wanted you for so long,” he gritted out.  “Please.”

“You’re so desperate,” she whispered, echoing words he’d said to her, his own feelings back at him.  “Eager for me.”  She couldn’t help but tease him once more, feeling his hardness and how it tortured him, his careful control sprawling away, and he was shaking.  She marveled at all his taunt muscle, spread out for her.  All this heat and passion and power, underneath her.  “What do you want, Supreme Leader.”

He groaned again, his voice strangled.  “Fuck me.”  Her fingers tightened and he hissed, “Rey.  All I’ve wanted.  Please.”

His words dug in like his bruising hold on her hips, and she braced herself with one arm to guide him into her.  She sank down, gasping – she knew he was big, but he stretched her to the point of pain – and she almost closed her eyes, but wanted to see his face as he filled her.  His eyes were slits, his teeth gritted and sweat shone on his brow, showing the effort he exerted to let her set the pace, gripping her ass tightly. 

Anything.  Anything she wanted.  She leaned back down into him, thrusting her hips, kissing him.  Everything was slick and hot and wet.

She pulled away from his mouth on a gasp, rocking back.  Deep.  So deep.  He chose that moment to thrust up into her, friction and fullness and she was teetering and he growled, “Quietly, my dear.”

She bit her lips, struggling as the heat spilled through her, making her cells burst with the strength of new plant life, a born star.  She had slowed her pace, his eyes burning her and pinning her with the promise of heat and warmth.  She could barely feel him all of a sudden, only flames and they pulled directly at her core – “Bite me,” he whispered, his thumb finding her clit, and she was soaring in a nebula, caught in the beam of a pulsar, his other hand pulling her down against his neck to muffle her shriek dazed and beautiful and –

Lost in the waves of starfire.  Shaking and sure. 

She lost contact with him as he flipped her over and she heard herself from far away make a  disgruntled noise, but it snapped her back to herself a bit, it had been so quick and – she blinked back into her own body, hissing, “You cheated!”

He’d reared back, staring down at her with dark and hungry eyes.  “I’m helpless before you, my empress.  I would not have lasted long with you dominating me.”

She managed a breathless laugh, the warmth and giddiness and elation still coursing through her.  “You didn’t come with me.”

His eyes glittered.  “Turn over.”

He wasn’t masking his desire anymore, wasn’t restrained, and it rose up to catch her in the throat, making her breath quicken again.  He wanted to give her everything.  He wanted to consume her, make her scream, make her beg.  He wanted her to forget all others.  Only want him.

She couldn’t get the words out.  I want you.  She turned over.

Her heart was hammering in her throat as he swept her hair over one shoulder.  Her skin prickled against the cloth of the tank she had worn to sleep, and his fingers were a trail of lava against her neck.

“On your knees,” he whispered, his hands guiding her hips up, and she propped herself on her elbows, already scorching in anticipation, still shivering from the last blast of heat he’d pushed through her.

Here is what she had wanted.  Hot and hard and fast and rough.

“Kriffing stars,” he rumbled.  “You look beautiful beneath me.  More than I had imagined.”  Her core clenched, and she choked on a breathy moan as he shifted, settled behind her, his huge hands sliding down her thighs.  “Are you still wet for me?”

His smoke and banter made her hotter and impatient.  She wanted him to lose control.  She arched her back, exhaling, “Just fuck me, Ben.”

She caught the growl that escaped his throat, felt his fingers flex into her.  He slid his palms up and over her ass, his thumbs digging in as he gripped her hips.  “That is what you want?” his whisper sylvan.  “You want me to pound into your heat like it’s mine – ” she could feel him hard against her, and she tried pushing back into him but his hands were firm and steady.  “Until you’re screaming and sore.”

“Stop teasing,” she growled, the flames searing through self-control.  “We don’t have much time.”

He drove into her without warning, to the hilt, and she screamed into his hand, clasped suddenly across her mouth.

“You’re so loud, my dear.”  His murmur was graveled and rough, his cock plunging into her again.  “I wish I could hear that scream.”

She made another muffled noise into his palm as he pulled out and slammed back into her, making her quiver all over, her fingers digging into the sheets.  “You can’t control yourself,” he whispered, his arm pulling back so that her neck tilted and she was glad he couldn’t hear her panting.  “You like how I can handle you.”

She willed him faster, annoyed and desperate, surging through him, and he exhaled on a moan, increasing the pace.  “You’re so tight and needy, my scavenger.”

He was dangerously close to a smirk, a laugh.  She bit him.

He hissed, grunting as he brutally thrust against her again and again, losing himself in need.  She was riding the edge of the galaxy, heat blazing through her.  His heat.

“I’ve got you,” he growled, feral and gorgeous and hers.  “Come for me, Rey,” he groaned, snapping his hips against her one last time.

She did.  The blaze of a dying star built and sucked her into singularity, deep and fathomless and far away –

He bit her shoulder to stop his own yell as he came.

She felt him pulsing in her, the pinprick of pain, but she was also in the depths of a newborn galaxy, writhing, burning, being reborn.  Shaking with the molten strength he’d rammed through her.  Blinded by his star.

“Ben,” she sighed as his hand fell away, he collapsed half on her.

He strained to kiss her and it was the kiss of a conqueror, sure and fierce and triumphant – his own rushing pleasure echoing through her, it was too much, he was jubilant and sated and ferocious.  “Help me sleep,” she murmured, her eyes heavy.

His fingertips ghosted down her cheek.

Notes:

Team! I thought February was a month. Now we are in the end times. I normally live in NYC - you can be sure I am not there right now. Drop a line in the comments if you are a long time reader (or new!) - that's about what equates to human contact atm. Hope y'all are safe and well.

Took a break from writing to play Horizon Zero Dawn. Very worth it, have spent more time with Aloy than real people in the past month and I highly recommend.

Re-watched Attack of the Clones. Man it grows on me every time. Not Hayden's fault he was given some shit lines. Excellent Star Wars movie, excellent rom com. This is the hill I'll die on.

Chapter 19: Made a Mistake on Corellia

She was standing before a broken window, the mourning sighs of a storm flurrying around her.  The room was ravaged and twisted, bent by the heat of a cataclysm.  This circular glass which may have once overlooked the might of stars and moons now looked unseeing and jagged over a windswept sea.  A single seat listed before the shattered, segmented panes.

“Only now, at the end, do you understand.”

She flailed sideways out of the dream stealing her breath, pressing a hand to her throat as she struggled to regain oxygen, reality.

Ben was all around her, his anger surging and burning her fully awake, his concern screaming against her skin.  He had not burst through the door as he had wanted to – there was a large number of people in the hall.  Shifts were changing.  They had to attend a briefing in less than a hour.

He still wanted to come in – the future teetered momentarily, but he was looking at the people in front of him, who he did not know, but he knew, could see as plainly as their steps past him in the present, what their reactions would be.

Someone moved to check on Rey or stop him each time.

There was no true privacy here.

Had they been lucky earlier?

Rey wondered if Rose had interfered.

He had been standing, hands clasped behind his back in meditation for hours and the fires had burned down to coals before her nightmare had speared through her temple, enraging him, awakening her.

She could tell that the sleep and meditation had done him good, and even now could still sense the languid thrill he felt, beneath his skin in the layers of his muscles, massaged into his calves and the base of his skull, in the aftermath of their interlude.

But.

He seethed now with the fury of a cornered wolf, possessive and protective and hackles raised.  She recognized it for what it was.  She felt the impotency of the rage that they would not even trust him with her, the woman they should trust implicitly if not him, and to question his motives was to question her, how dare any question his -

He was calming, she felt a shift in his thoughts.  His master.  How dare they question his master.

His feelings, the thread of possessiveness and desire, faded slightly, as if he was trying to get a grip on himself, show her that he could.  That this could be both personal and professional.

His rage at not being able to protect her, if necessary.  If protecting her meant contradicting her.  What should he do, if such a moment presented itself again?  He wanted to respect her wishes, he did not want to disobey her.

She got dressed, washed up, quickly, listening to all of this rattle around in his head.

When she opened the door, the peace and calm she had been trying to radiate had smoothed his brow fractionally, visibly, she saw that the set of his shoulders was no longer in anger.  Determination.

He turned and met her gaze, and she felt breathless for a moment, as if she had forgotten his great height, how he towered over her.  She had a self-conscious urge to smooth her hair.  Focus.  He needed her words.  “I would not be angry at you, if the danger was great and you had to contradict me.  Perhaps for a moment, but that moment would pass.”

A small smile curled at his lips, and he bowed his head.  Giving her a moment to collect herself.  But she felt that his relief was bittersweet.  He glanced back up at her through his thick lashes, and the heat of his gaze ignited in her chest, making it hard to swallow.  “Every time I taste your fury, I fear it is the last time.”

She was sinking to the bottom the lake, away from these words and what they might mean.

To put words to her emotions was not the same as trusting her feelings.  She had learned the latter.  There was nothing in the books, the teachings she had absorbed that taught the former.

Emotions were tricky.  She had only recently learned about love.  She’d always known about quieting loneliness, pain, rage through hard work and focus.  She’d lived to be stubborn.  Sharing laughter and smiles had been rare and only now something that came almost easily.  It was like remembering that she was not alone.  She had to remind herself to untangle her emotions, often spent time meditating to do so.  She had not had enough time to untangle her feelings on her parents, on his blazing triumph.  She smiled, thinking, he thought that it was a triumph.  And his feelings on it are more complicated than that.  Everything is more complicated than a scavenger on Jakku once thought.

“Only if you betray me.” 

The words came out as cold as the moons on the dunes.  But she meant it.  He could fail her and she would forgive him.  A betrayal was irrevocable, of mind and heart.

She did not know what her feelings might say, might tell him, but she knew they were true.  He seemed to relax slightly, he wanted to kiss her hands but did not trust himself to not be taken in by the touch of her skin. 

She knew this in the space of a breath, his presence washing over her as if he had kissed her hands.  She was caught by the strength of that emotion.

He bowed slightly instead, an appropriate bow, one she may have seen from any Jedi to a Master.  “I am yours, Master.”

Not an appropriate thing to say.

She let it slide and began walking down the corridor, heading toward the bridge.  He followed at her shoulder like she knew he would.

He wasn’t thinking, he was awake and rested and focused on their surroundings, flipping through emotions and micro expressions and movements around them.  Instead of paying attention herself, she listened to him, magnifying and flowing through him, relaxed and marveling at his training, his reflexes, his awareness – he had been bred for a life of balance, to only use force when necessary.  But he had lived the life of a warrior for many years, had lived a life contrary to his childhood of diplomacy and peace.

She was moving before she knew why, sliding to her knees and using her momentum to bend back and under the swing of a blade -

Only there was no blade.

She flipped as she skid to a stop, her fingers steadying her in a crouch, taking in the scene before her.

Sabe was staring up at Ben, whose teeth were bared, lightsaber sheathed but in his palm as he towered over her.  He was close enough to have her pressed to the edge of the hangar bay they’d just rounded, but she looked collected, if a bit pale.

“Guess you’re not useless,” Sabe muttered.

Rey straightened, craning her neck around him to see Annju, although she hadn’t quite felt her presence before.  A test?  “Good work, young Padawan,” the older Jedi said, moving toward his tense form, easing a hand over his elbow.  “Now, let go of the anger.”

She felt bemused, and the anger washed backwards through her almost as strongly as it did him.  “Is that coffee?” she asked Annju.

The woman handed it to her wordlessly, not taking her eyes off his face as his jaw rippled and clenched with effort.  Rey remembered the day he’d seen her for the first time through the bond in his starship, how there’d been a tick in his cheek as he bit his tongue, backed off from a full-frontal assault, reassessed.  Annju said, “We are going into the unknown.  You must be prepared to defend her, to leash these emotions.  Your enemy will use them against you.”

“This little one is fighting me with fury,” he gritted out, not close to the emotionless he had been when Sabe had attacked him the day before.  Still seething, still assessing if an attack was necessary.

Rey was disgruntled.  She hadn’t thought of ways to test him yet.  She could barely get her own thoughts in order.

She had been riding his wave because she needed a few minutes of peace and meditation.

Being with him was exhausting.  Not being with him was equally exhausting.

She saw a flicker of a moment, of Sabe in the air, held up by an invisible hand, of Ben launching in an improbable jump back and over Annju –

“Steady,” she murmured, refocused.  She didn’t need to touch him, like Annju was.  Annju was bleeding her own brand of calm and grounding into him.  Rey tugged at his heartstrings, binding him to the light, and saw his breath hitch.  “Restraint.”   We all know you can break and bend and tear through multitudes.  You have nothing to prove.  Not to me.

His chest heaved. 

“Sabe also has much to learn about anger,” Annju told him, perhaps sensing his shift in purpose.  “You will learn together.  Come.”

He looked at Rey then, the fury still beating against her skin.

“Thank you, Annju,” she breathed.  “Please give me a moment with my Padawan.”

“Of course, Master Skywalker.”  She bowed and motioned Sabe away.

“Will you play nice,” Rey murmured between her teeth, her back to the women.

Irritation still edged the set of his shoulders, creased the point between his brows.  “I have failed you, and in front of Torkana.”

She rolled her eyes.  “Stop being so dramatic. You reacted to a perceived threat.  That it was not quite what it seemed does not weigh on the situation.  I’d have been concerned if she had gotten the drop on you.  And it’s Master Torkana.”

He closed his eyes, and she drew closer to him in spirit, breathing in his scent, his skin, his flares of power and might.  He coursed through her, the fury and need and – he’d been so focused on finding her, joining her.  He was livid that Hux stood in their way.

“Annju can help you re-center,” she said softly.  “You felt even-keeled when you arrived. You must reclaim some measure of serenity.”

“A bluff,” he muttered, his gaze boring into her as he opened his eyes, heat crawling through her so suddenly, and with force.  “I wanted you to accept me.  I had not realized the extent of my failure.”

The chasm in his chest yawned, beckoned her.  Helpless.

But his eyes still burned.  “But I will not let an insolent pup best me.  I will protect and defend you, to my dying breath, if need be.”

For a moment she couldn’t swallow.

“That won’t be necessary,” she swallowed then, trying not to do something embarrassing like cry.  What was wrong with her?  “We face this together.  And you only fail if I say you’ve failed.  And you will not fail me.”

He looked at her, the slightest wrinkle in his expression, and she felt him trying to discern her emotions, pondering the confidence in him and a well of something she did not want to name. “It is hard for me to forget what I saw in his mind,” he said at last, the words hoarse and raw.  Scraping over her skin like his nails.  “He wants you.”

He did not need to say anymore.

Just talking to her about Hux had settled the maelstrom, but the depth and strength – she could feel more of it now, felt the rage that bred from his lack of foresight, the rage that spawned from Hux’s desire, his threat to her.  

He was shielding her, or he thought he was.  Now she could feel the jealousy and possessiveness, the dark and cloying part of his soul.  The fire burned blue and white and hot and fierce – my star, my sun, mine –

She drew back with a gasp, trying to hide the effect on her.  Her skin felt hot and dry.  Heat pooled deep inside and she shifted, self-conscious.  He was in more control than she realized.

“You are doing well in tempering your rage,” she whispered.  “Annju will help you more.”

He was not fooled, and he narrowed his gaze, suddenly yanked from their conversation by the desire she could not stop from winding through her body.  He swallowed, and she watched the muscles in his throat move.  Tried to sink into her ocean.

He whispered, “You do like me jealous.”

She cleared her throat and leaned away from his breath, which was making her dizzy.  “Take care not to damage my apprentice, Annju,” she said loudly, lightly, her heart lifting slightly as his fierceness buoyed her.  “At least, not too badly.”

“I’ll await your return, Master.”

Appropriate.  The breath he sent with a light touch to her lips – his thumb dragging down, parting her, breathless – was not.

She pulled herself out, walked away, feeling relieved.  She smiled at the bickering behind her - she hadn’t been sure Ben would loosen up around anyone aside from her.

This was alright. She knew where he was.  He was safe.  So was she.

For now.

She slipped into meditation as she made a turn around the ship, taking an extra lap before heading to the bridge.

Her thoughts on Ben Solo.  She could still feel his presence, the strength of his soul, feeding hers.

Her thoughts on Armitage Hux.

In her meditations he was not a beacon, but she could tell that he had been steadily working, planning toward a goal.  What this goal might be, she was not sure.

She was strong.

She felt baffled and concerned, but she took solace in the strength that coursed through her, that tied her to him, to all the souls in this fleet.  Her duty to protect and defend life at any cost.

She was a Jedi.

She found herself before the bridge.

Blinked.

She was maybe fifteen minutes late, they had understandably started without her.

She tried to slip in unnoticed but felt the tenor of the bridge change with her first footfall.  A visible and felt relaxation when they saw she was alone.

Alone.

She exhaled.  She was not alone.

Sometimes hard to remember, it took her a few minutes.  But she was better at it now, and Rose was here and Rose was an ally and fearless.

She missed her cloak.

She pretended like she didn’t know what everyone was thinking and strode with purpose to Rose’s side as one of the generals collected himself and continued his discussion.

“What is happening on Coruscant?” She whispered.

Rose shifted, and then murmured.  “Nothing unusual, just preparation for the delegates convention.  We’ve just skimmed through the series of events over the course of the next two weeks.”

Unease crept up her spine.

“So many targets,” she breathed.

Finn and Poe looked tense from across the room.  Connix was at helm, she saw her trying to catch her eye.  Something warm and unnamed bubbled up in her and she let it happen, giving her a salute fit for a friend.

Connix’s smile thrilled her to the core.

Rose nudged her. “You’re too negative by half.”

“I hate meetings.” She hissed back.

She realized that he was tense.  It was bleeding into her.  She thought, calm down.  Tried to project.  Couldn’t tell if she was successful with her attention split, him farther away than she wanted.

Rose laid her palm against her bare arm, and the warmth seeped into her, grounding her in the cold of space.  She covered it with hers, grateful for the gesture, for her friend.  “Did I miss anything else?”

Rose shrugged.  “Some discussion on strange activity in the Outer Rim and the locations of First Order troops.”

A thread of unease wound through her at the mention of the Outer Rim.

Leia in hologram form, Chewie hulking behind her, was half turned toward her, clearly trying to get her attention.  Rey saluted her too, a smile on her lips.

She should have called Leia yesterday, but she had assumed Calrissian had contacted her.  It looked to be true – Leia did not look so worn.  She seemed more relaxed, happier.

Perhaps her son had told her?

She drifted back from that thought as they started to discuss security and surveillance for the first couple days of the conference.  It was slated to last two weeks.  Nothing discussed was earth shattering.  The fleet was to be on standby, awaiting orders.  They were behaving as though an attack was imminent on Coruscant.  That was good.

But.  She couldn’t put her finger on it.  Something, missing, just out of reach.

“And what of the war criminal?”

Rey shifted, her concentration broken, to stare impassively at Poe.  He was determinedly not looking at her, his brow furrowed.

General Calrissian broke the silence, “Kylo Ren?” He asked carefully.

“Yes,” Poe said.  “Are we going to simply let him go?”

“Kylo Ren is dead,” Rey found herself engaging in his theatrics before she fully realized the tactic.  And her tone had come ringing and sharp into the silence.  Sure.  Positive.  Confident.  Leia looked like she was holding her breath. 

She shut her mouth.

Poe tried to look her in the eye and failed.  “Your new apprentice is dead?”

“No.”

She found that she enjoyed watching Poe’s jaw work at that.

The unnamed thing warming her still from Connix and Leia held strong.  From Rose’s hand on her arm.  From the faint feeling of Annju telling Ben off for at least the fourth time rippling through the air.

She was a Jedi.

And she wasn’t alone.

“Can you give General Organa and I some space, please?” She said it like they would listen to her and strode over to the hologram, bowing to Leia.  Like she would a master.  Despite Leia having forsaken that path.

The walker the projection was balanced on complied as she took her further into a corner, away from the prying eyes and ears.  And the voices.  They were listening to her, but there were a few questions – Rose was fielding issues that Rey knew she would have to address.

Later.

Press Secretary of the Jedi Order?

“Rey,” Leia’s eyes sparkled from half a galaxy away.

“I hope you are well, Senator,” Rey almost laughed, her smile was so wide and she felt - she felt success.  She felt at peace.

Happy.

“How is my son?” Leia asked.

“Did he tell you he was coming?”

“He may have,” Leia matched her smile.

“As you may have heard, I have an apprentice,” Rey said.  “How are matters at the capital?”

Now Leia sighed and frowned.  “There is a disturbance in the Force, Rey.”

“I feel it too,” she murmured.

“We can only wait,” Leia told her.  “I have been unable to pinpoint any relevant movement here.  Nothing unusual at the moment.”

Rey sighed.  “Thank you, Senator.  I will see you in a few days.”

Leia nodded her head as Chewie said goodbye and cut off the connection.

The person Rose couldn’t stop turned out to be Finn.  “Rey,” he hissed. “Do you have a plan?”

“We’re going to go check out the gathering,” Rey murmured, motioning Rose to her side.  “Hopefully the First Order will settle a bit once Ben is back.  And he will be able to detect or prevent any mutinous factions.  We will assess and go from there.”

“But what about the General?”

“I – ”  The chill that had risen at the talk of the Outer Rim worked its way back up her spine. “I have a feeling.  I hope it will pan out once we get to Coruscant.”

“Me too,” Finn muttered.  “Poe is fit to be tied.”

She entertained Finn’s complaints and Rose’s ribbing for longer than she meant to – through an early lunch.  She made her excuses and went to find him, skirting the edge of the hangar where she’d felt them training before.

She was half focused on the hangar at best, still chasing down the remnants of the ice and heat she had felt in the briefing.  The chill of space.  The warmth of home.

The bond surged, and her blade was singing in her hand, behind her back, blocking him.  She spun, clearing the arc of light and spreading her arms wide, looking for him.

He was in a far corner out of sight, he is right in front of her.

“Concentrate, Solo!” Annju could have been Luke, given her quartermaster tone.  “She is not here.”

He spun back toward Sabe, who appeared to be trying her best to kill him.

On impulse, Rey went for his back, to see if he’d turn, if he’d react – he parried, swinging toward her with a growl, his hair in his eyes, ducking back toward Sabe.

“But she is,” he snarled toward Annju.

His fire and drive colored everything a gorgeous burnt orange, and he was so close – from here she could feel an echo, a flicker of the fire’s heat.  She inhaled, rapturous.

He was struggling with something, she felt a hint through the daze.  Then he had Sabe’s lightsaber in hand, the girl was on the ground, and he was hammering at her with everything he had, both blades whirling toward her in chaos.

Her blood sang, with just that whiff of siren song.  She grinned – she was used to being the underdog.

She blocked him, double bladed.

“Good way to lose a hand,” she quipped, knocked her hilt into his wrist as she saw an opening, sliding back and away.

He huffed and charged, slashing up and down.

She slid between his legs, tripping him, forcing him to disengage a blade as he tumbled past her, she lashed out with her foot, he lost his grip –

His lightsaber is in her hand.

He bared his teeth not in rage, but challenge, pure and simple and lighting the lines of his face in focus and drive.

The bond fizzled and died.

She was breathing hard, half crouched on the ground alone in her corner, no one had seen, or if they had, they were polite enough to have ignored.

She heard a roar of frustration.

She ran.

She darted up the servo ladders, losing herself in the cavernous wall of the hangar, hoping he wouldn’t see.  She could sense Annju, a thread of amusement, a thread of concern.

“He was doing well, Rey,” she heard her call from far away.  “Until you came.”

Sounded about right.  She stashed the lightsaber in a landing bay, wondering if he would go after her first.

“Apologies, Master Torkana,” she breathed into her comm.  “Thank you for babysitting my apprentice while I was otherwise occupied.  We’ll be back shortly.”

He slammed into her with enough force to make her lose her breath and be completely star struck by the heat against her skin.  She found herself pressed up against a coolant storage, just far enough into a niche that she was surprised that he’d seen her.

He didn’t feel tired from the training, he felt like he was on an adrenaline rush, he had gained ground from the morning.  Regained assurance.  Felt more like himself.

Felt taunt and immovable behind her, pinning her.  His long fingers wrapped around her wrists, and his weight crushed her against the cool metal.  Even without his vast abilities, he was dangerously etched in muscle and sinew – shoulders wider than an outpost, his massive biceps caging her in.  She tried to catch her breath, but he was wrapping her in smoke and flame and she couldn’t breathe.

This didn’t feel like training, or her first impulse would have been to escape.  Nor did she want it to.  They were alone.

He eased back slightly, so she had some room to shift, to twist experimentally against his wrists, and to her surprise he eased off – but she still couldn’t move her hands.

His heat scorched her shoulders as he leaned into her, heavy and positively a furnace.  He ran his huge palms down her arms, slowly, deliberately, his breath warm against her neck, making her paralyzed with need for this man.  Dangerous and yet so tempered for her, searing and thrilling and sure.  He deftly removed her comm – broke it? – and then whispered against the shell of her ear, “Spread your legs.”

Heat pooled, but kriffing hells was he playing at?  She hissed, “You beast – ”

“Where is my lightsaber?” he growled, his deep voice reverberating against her back as he ran his hands down her sides, her stomach.  Suddenly too quickly, too quickly.  She relaxed as his hands continued their inspection, almost impersonal, almost devoid of the heat thrumming through her, lingering from his voice.  He rumbled, from closer to the ground, his hands moving to the tops of her boots, circling her ankles.  “I said, spread your legs.”

“If I don’t?”

“You know I can take anything I want.”  The words jarred her for a moment before she remembered that he had said this to her, long ago.  A long ago when he’d strapped her to a table, but he had been just as helpless as she.  Now he was certainly smirking, playing with her.  She gasped as his hands roved up to cup her ass, no longer impersonal, and he bit gently into her neck, sending a tremor through her, her head lolling back.  “Anything,” he snarled, kneading into her, and she groaned, parting her legs.

“I don’t have it,” she breathed, feeling the need he sparked coursing through her.  She had thought herself satiated the night before.  She was surprised.  

And wrong.

She liked this game. 

He made a show of running his fingertips along the inside of her thighs before slipping his hand under her leggings, placing his palm directly over her mound.  “You will tell me where it is.”

“No,” she breathed.

“I thought you might say that, scavenger,” he growled.  “I came better prepared this time.”

Something small and inhuman pressed against her folds as his fingers tightened against her.  “What is that?” She breathed.

His muscles strained at her back, and she heard and felt the gloating in his tone.  “An interrogation device.”

She shivered, but only in anticipation.  Surreal.  Reality.  Once a dream, a hidden thought.  Being present here in this moment was searing.

“Of course, if you told me where my lightsaber was, I wouldn’t have to use it.”

Her pulse quickened, appreciating the out, he always made sure they were in sync and she loved that, but her heart stuttered – they were in public, someone could see, someone could get to him, someone might hurt him if she wasn’t careful – kriffing stars, she had lost sense of their surroundings, just for these moments, but there were so many who would take their chance –

He withdrew slightly, sensing her disquiet and the remorse from him was just as breathtaking, only a sliver, a pang through the fire, but there nonetheless.  She cleared her throat against the panic that rose against the thought of not being able to stop some imagined harm to him, but he beat her to words.

His voice whispered against the skin of her throat, roughly.  “I like it too much.”  One hand came up to rest on hers, and she immediately curled her fingers over his, took a steadying breath.  The power of a nebula and the strength of a tide.  “Having you pinned beneath me.  Restrained.  Knowing that you’ve let me touch you, that you want what I can do to you.”

“It wasn’t that,” she swallowed, the fire was burning strong in her stomach and she shifted against him.  “I am worried about losing focus.”  I am worried about you.

His fingers tightened over hers.  His breath was even and sure over her shoulder. “Then you do want this, I did not misread you.”

“Yes.”  The edge of his fear told her that she needed to be clear.  “Yes, I enjoy sparring with you.  In all forms.”

His fingers dipped below her leggings again, and he roughly pushed her against him, satisfaction bleeding through his skin.  “Your concern is touching.  You should be more worried about what I’m going to do to you.”

She bit her lip, to prevent both a laugh and a groan as his hips thrust against her.  “You can’t break me.”

“Tell me where the lightsaber is.  I’ll go easy on you.”

He unclasped their hands but the pressure of his Force grip was still strong.  He wrapped his fingers around her throat, as he was apt to, the heat and threat exquisite.

She had never felt so alive.

He tilted her head back so that she was looking him full in the face.  His mouth was drawn in its normal impassive line, his eyes greedy and floating and smug.  His confidence in his ability to please her annoying but not unfounded.  She wanted everything he promised.

But. “I can’t protect you.”

His tongue flicked out and she couldn’t help it – she pushed into his fingers, her will was weakening, stars he felt so good – but, the fear was rising inside her, she couldn’t –

“Relax,” he purred, pressing a kiss into the corner of her mouth, leaving her ragged and clinging to resolve against him.  “I can take care of myself.  I will not lose myself in you.”

He flexed his fingers, pressing one thick digit deep and she was losing.  His mouth was at her jawline, killing her resolve.  “Promise,” she hissed.

He went still for a moment against her, then he chuckled, the rumble echoing through her.  “Sentiment?”

“Wouldn’t want to have to take a new apprentice, so soon,” she panted.  “Optics, you see.”

She felt for a moment that her words had cut deeper than she had meant.  A flare of pain, old worn.  Quickly gone, had she –

“Then you give me no choice,” his mirth was still there.  “You’ll tell me where it is.”

His fingers flexed against her, and she felt the foreign object again, wondered what he could possibly do -

Oh.

Oh kriffing hells.

Her body jerked involuntarily, the vibration wracking her.  Oh.  That.

“Paying attention now?” he rasped, dark hunger wrapped around his satisfaction at her reaction.

She didn’t have a device like this for herself but she’d heard of them and fuck she should have bought one on Corellia.  Rose and her had passed by a shop and if only they hadn’t been distracted by that rogue imperial convoy – “R’iia curse it,” she gasped, twisted, the device sending waves through her and it was hard to breathe and think at the same time.  His fingers tightened and she bit her lip, muffling the gasp that could have escaped.

“Tell me,” his voice had graveled and was smoke and flame. “And I’ll let you come.”

The vibrations stopped and she leaned back against him, panting.  Inhaled, trying for calm, she was not so needy, he was going to have to work harder than that.  “Find it yourself and I’ll go easy on you in front of Annju.”

He paused, his dark gaze boring into her.  “Hm.  Tempting.  She’d see through you, though.”

He turned the vibrator back on and she sagged against him, strung out and shaky.  Pulses running through her stomach in a completely new and thrilling way.  “Ben,” she whispered, loving how his breath hitched.  “Kiss me.”

She ground into him as he was distracted for that moment and shuddered at the myriad sensations – his tongue, his fingers, the rippling torture, everything and nothing but her core clenching around his fingers.

It felt like him and machine fragments and home.

The ocean crashed through her, anything but calm and she was losing herself in his whirlwind of flame and pulsar and strength.

Saw a flash of him, heartbroken, his arms clutching her, pain stark on his face, and she startled back to herself –

No.

She broke the Force hold on her wrists, twisting and pulling him down to her fiercely, her hands clutching into his hair, his jaw, and she felt him helpless and lost to her, the rush of his need for her threading through her like a live wire and she was still hungry with his taste lashing across her tongue, wanted his release as much as she had wanted her own, wanted to feel him come apart at the seams –

Her mind roved around them, checking, back in this moment with him and his ferocity was her own, though not his patience, she would never be as patient in their lifetime.  No one had seen them.

He had to brace himself on the wall as he followed her lead – he didn’t need her to tell him to relax, let go – his surrender was complete.  She bit his lip, delving deep into his mouth to taste his hunger and drive and ferocious desire. 

And she thrust her hand between them, taking his hard length in her hand, thinking of how he would fuck her the next time they were alone and safe and began to pump his release from him.

He collapsed on his forearm against the wall, his lips parting from hers as he groaned.  He thrust into her hand, growling as she peeled his collar down and found his pulse point with her teeth, marking him, causing him to release a string of curses and praises, “Rey, fuck, kriffing hells, my life – yours – your hands – gods, fucking perfect, keep – please – Rey.”

She pulled back to see his face as he came, the rapture chasing the vision from her mind, the pleasure and euphoria echoing pleasantly inside.

He was here.  He was safe.

With a quick twist of her fingers, she cleaned them up, leeching the moisture from their clothes, running her other hand idly through his hair as he recovered, eyes closed.  Then she summoned the lightsaber, satisfaction and power simmering between them in static electricity.  “Nice try, my Padawan,” she smirked as his hooded eyes fluttered open, tranquility and peace retreating into warmth at her words.  She pressed the blade into his hand that had dropped to her hip in his fall.  “Let’s see if you can win the next bout.”

Notes:

Hope y'all are well! Writer's block has been real during this time, and work has been busy (for which I am grateful). Pandemic is still on, stay safe. Drop a line in the comments to say hi from quarantine (or from a place that's handling this better than the good old U.S. of A.).

Chapter 20: I Thought I Knew This Pain

Two days later they had almost reached Coruscant.  An Imperial fleet was moving.  Rumors were swirling.

Darkness was still coming.  Lying in wait.

Rey saw the vision of his heartbreak, his pain, no less than five times in those two days.  She tried to hide it, tried to pretend that her unexplained visions did not frighten her, that the pain that tore through her made sense, that she could control this.  

Why was she feeling this way?

Rose had helped her answer this question.  She was coming to terms with it, with caring about him.  But she had never felt this fear before.  This fear that she wouldn’t be able to stop this, that she wouldn’t be enough, that she couldn’t protect him.

She hadn’t known that caring about other people could be so hard.

She’d never seen Rose hurt.  She only knew Poe through Finn and had never seen him in action, risking his neck.  She’d heard of course.  And generally, when Finn was risking his neck, he was risking hers too and she was focused on getting them both out safely.

She’d never been wracked by this before.

She hadn’t left him alone again.

He watched her with careful eyes, mainly when he may have thought she wasn’t looking.  She put so much effort in composing herself, in preventing him from seeing her turmoil that they spent much of the two days in meditation and training.

She took a break soon before they arrived, to receive General Calrissian in the hangar where they had continued to train.  He’d only wanted to discuss the movements of the First Order, the intelligence from the Outer Rim that still didn’t make any sense.

A voice echoed, sinister and dark and mocking her.  “Only now, at the end, do you understand.”

But I don’t understand, she thought, willing the peace and wisdom of the Jedi through her bones.  Luke talked to her, in the ocean of her mind, while they were training.  Maybe Annju had heard him.  Maybe she hadn’t.

She’d merely told Ben to concentrate and left Rey alone.

After their conversation, the general had asked for some time with his nephew.  Rey took that opportunity to call her friends for a meeting.

Poe still wouldn’t look her in the eye, she was sure he hadn’t wanted to come, that Finn had made him.  Rose had told her more about the Outer Rim – there was something like a blockade around Endor.  Finn had asked if he could meditate with Sabe and the other apprentices, and Rey had said yes.  Poe had muttered something that sounded vaguely apologetic and Rey smiled.

Rey succeeded in preventing her unease from affecting the others until it was time for him to leave.  A bell rang to signal that they would be dropping out of hyperspace and Annju placed a hand on her shoulder, bringing her back to the present, her ears ringing with the echoes of the proximity alarm and something else.

Explosions.  She wasn’t supposed to be here.

Annju said, faraway, as stars flamed and died, “Well done, Solo. You did not let her unease distract you.”

Her unease.

She took a deep breath and Annju’s offered hand to get to her feet.  “Solo,” she clipped out.  “With me.  Master Horn, proceed with preparing our delegation for arrival.”

She’d decided that she would present herself and some of the others and leave the Republic wondering just how many constituted the Jedi Order.  And she would need to start recruiting.  Finn wasn’t strong enough to join them, but she knew he would help her find others.

She slung on her cloak as her apprentice fell into step at her shoulder.  Crew still stopped to stare and gave them a wide berth as she navigated their way back to their quarters.

That hallway was deserted.  Rose.

Rey relaxed and didn’t hesitate to push into his room, which she still hadn’t risked. 

He locked the door behind her.

They had mere minutes, and the sense of darkness and wrongness was so strong within her.  She had never known this type of fear, and it was throwing her perspective on the upcoming convention completely off.

I am one with the Force, she thought, her fingernails digging into her palms.  I am not alone.

She was just stiffening her spine when he wrapped his huge arms around her shoulders from behind, breathing gently, and his usual assuredness, purpose flowing from him in waves.

She had become almost used to his presence, tempered by proximity and work and others.  But in small moments it still took her breath away.

Home.

Her breath caught, kriffing hells she didn’t want him to leave.

What was happening to her?  She’d never felt this way about anyone – except perhaps her parents.

And he wouldn’t do that to her.  He wouldn’t leave her.  At least not by choice.

It still scared her.

He inhaled, still radiating a frankly annoying amount of calm through her clothes to settle like oil on her skin.  It wasn’t sinking in.  “Do you want to tell me what is wrong?”

She swallowed, his weight resting solidly against her and wrapped around her.  His massive forearms crossed loosely at the bottom of her peripheral vision.  Relaxed.  She tried to borrow some of it.  “I’m fine.  Was just thinking.”

He deftly slid his palms along her skin, slipping beneath cloth, slowly, making her breath hitch. “Stop thinking,” he rumbled, thumbing her nipple so she gasped.  He tilted her chin and warmth spread through her chest, like bitterfruit liquor, light and heat surged through his fingertips.  His gaze was heavy and sure on her skin.  Her lips parted as she watched his tongue dart out to lick his lips, so close.  His thumb pulled at her bottom lip, and she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t look away from his mouth.

“We don’t have much time,” she said hoarsely.

He bent down, his tongue leisurely and hot as he licked into her mouth, carefully, slowly.  He drew back only to move his lips over hers softly, so painfully sweet she could barely think past the electricity now coursing through her, lightning and sin.

“I could make them wait.”

She shook her head, unable to speak.

“I could take my time to enjoy you like a fine Chandrillan wine,” his tone was amused and a part of her still found his humor funny in itself.  She couldn’t help a small smile.  “But I know that you are stressed.  And I will not add to your burden.”

“You are not a burden,” she breathed, leveraging herself up, tilting her head back so that she could press her lips against his again, and it was even better this time, sliding her tongue against his, carefully, deeply, she loved his mouth.  Hot and wicked and hers.

She pulled back.  He was leaving.  She needed to compose herself.

He placed a careful kiss to the corner of her mouth and unwound his arms, sliding one hand down to take hers.  She squeezed his hand, thinking, I won’t be able to touch him again for hours.  A day.  Days.  She let him go and he quickly gathered his meager belongings, moving faster than anyone else could.  At ease with small supernatural things that came as easy to him as breathing.  She just watched him, settling onto the cot and admiring the ripple of muscle she could see and imaging what she couldn’t.  It only took a minute or two, and he was before her, staring down with something almost unreadable on his face.

She felt like she should say something.  But what?

I can’t lose you.  I can’t lose anyone else.

“I know we don’t have much time,” he said, and the words sounded loud in the silence between them.  “But I want to give you something.”

He handed her the strange box she’d seen among his belongings on the ground outside the Silencer. Her palms tingled with energy, coursing through him and across the enameled surface.  She flexed her fingers reflexively, jimmying the latch.

A fine silver chain pooled next to what looked like a beige block of carved wood, close to an hourglass shape.  The pattern was unknown to her, simple, a rectangle, lines and swirls.

What a curious trinket.  She couldn’t help but feel –

She gasped and pulled her fingers from it, the sense of dunes and heat and longing, home, disappearing.

She blinked and he was kneeling before her, uncertainty and the despair she sometimes felt from him suddenly warring with his composure in the tremble of his lips.  She took a deep breath.  Carefully rubbed her thumb along the grooves.

No echoes of a past that was not hers this time.  No yawning maw of memory.  

But it was from a desert and steeped in meaning, she was sure of it.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, almost surprised by this conclusion.  “What is it?”

He grasped the chain, dangling it before her.  “May I?”

She nodded, and his eyes never left her lips as he bent closer to hook it around her neck, his fingertips brushing against her skin and raising goosebumps.  He rocked back on his heels, his huge palm cupping the back of her neck, and she was worried, worried at his consternation, his silent conflict.  “Ben?”

“It’s a japor snippet.  It’s special to me.  I’d like you to have it.”

She swallowed, the weight of his hand not a promise, just there, with her.  Comfort.

“Why do you want me to have it?”

Her heart was racing.  What was wrong with her?

He cleared his throat.  “To remind you that I am yours.  I won’t betray you.  I don’t want you to doubt me.”

A pain lanced through her own chest.  He was almost lying.  He wasn’t telling her something.  She didn’t realize she was pushing forward, against his mind, trying to see, until he brought her forehead to his, his breathing suddenly ragged.  “Please, Rey.  Just accept it.”

“Fine,” she murmured.  “Thank you.”

She stood, breaking his grasp, burying her confusion and sudden hurt in her ocean, refocusing on the mission at hand.

Return him.

He was staring up at her, and she couldn’t bear the look on his face, it was too close to her vision, he was devastated, she didn’t know why and it was almost as bad as seeing him wounded as she knew he had been – would be, but not if she could help it – in that flash she kept seeing in the back of her consciousness.

“Don’t look so glum,” she said in an effort at causal.  “I’ll be back to kicking your ass in no time.”

He finally rose, she thought with effort, but desire was bleeding through.  “I’ll enjoy that,” he rumbled, taking a step into her, slowly, deliberately, threading his fingers through her hair.  “Master,” he growled against her lips, kissing her hard and she stumbled back against the door.  He pinned her, his other hand at her wrists, licking deep into her mouth with a hunger that roared through her, obliterating her meditation and making her buck against him, testing his resolve.  He drove a knee between her legs, forcing her on her toes, and she moaned, dizzy and shocked – he’d been so mellow and then came roaring to life with the force of an insatiable singularity. He growled low in his throat and slowed his momentum, nipping her lower lip and sucking it between his teeth.

She squirmed, tried to get some leverage, his bulk unmoving, so solid and taunt, and he laughed against her, the reverberations warm and shocking.  “You’re always aiming to burn hot and quick,” he murmured, tracing the shell of her ear with his lips.  “I think about what I’d do to you if I had the time.  The way you beg when you’re desperate – with your whole body, trying to manipulate me.”

“Is it working?” she hissed, trying again to move and unable without enlisting the Force.  Instead she wrapped her legs around him, feeling his erection and he hissed before he snorted in amusement, nosing across her neck.

A second alarm went off.

She moaned his name as he bit down, rocked his hips against hers.  He bit down harder and quickly released his hold in her hair to cover her mouth as she got louder.

He suckled her skin and then said softly, “I look forward to the day we’re truly alone.  I’ll see how loud I can make you scream.  And for how long.”

“Yes,” she breathed, sliding down the door.  “You’ll owe me.”

“I’ve something else for you,” he murmured, his fingers smoothing over her cheekbones.  Adjusting her collar.  “It’s at the Silencer.”

The world settled again, but she felt warmer.  She ran her fingers along the grooves in the pendant, staring up into his eyes, or she may have missed the flare of possessiveness.

There was so much to say.

And nothing at all.

She pushed the door open, moved on autopilot through the ship, paying more attention to his thoughts as he spun through the plan, the time they would be apart.

Simple.  Just make Hux think all was well.  And stay apart, as much as they could.  See what Hux thought. 

Though he must know, beyond the report from his Knight, he could have heard about them.

Refrain from challenging Hux.  That was for Ben.  Rey smiled.  He’d be able to restrain himself, if barely.

Rose intercepted them outside the hangar.  “The Silencer is ready, I cleared it myself.  Clean, fueled.”

“Thanks Rose.  His things are on board?”

“Everything.  Then we have about half a day to Coruscant.”

“What would I do without you?” she smiled.  Almost stumbled as a twist ran through her from him – jealousy?  Loss?  Self-loathing?

She missed Rose’s laughing reply, looked over her shoulder at him, he wouldn’t meet her eye.

She laughed at Rose with effort, asked where the Silencer was.  Asked how the chatter over the holo-net had changed.

Sent a caress behind her.  Fingertips on scarred skin stretched over a cheekbone.  Calm.  Peace.

Annju and General Calrissian were waiting.  She saluted the General like Rose did, but he only smiled and saluted her right back.  She caught Ben bowing to the man out of the corner of her eye, and quickly turned her attention to Annju to give them privacy.

Her forehead was creased with concern, Rey’s concern.  “This feels alright,” she murmured.  “It is the separation that jolts so?”

“Yes,” Rey confirmed, suddenly glad that she wasn’t alone in this thought.  “But his path is clear.”

“A turn, this,” Annju whispered, the words meant for Rey alone.  “He is stronger than I thought possible.”

Rey smiled, proud.  Yes.  He was.

Ben reappeared at her elbow, having retrieved a zipped cloth.  “For you, Master.”

“Thank you,” but she couldn’t read anything in him past the maelstrom.  “What is it?”

“Something for you to wear.  If you want.  To the welcome gala.”

She was starting to feel bad that she hadn’t gotten him anything.  Of course, she hadn’t known he was coming.  She didn’t realize she was toying with her necklace until she noticed that Annju was staring.

She cleared her throat.  She hadn’t said anything remotely useful.  She was hurting.  She didn’t know how to stop it.  He was leaving and although he had given her these things, although she knew his heart, he hadn’t said anything either.

Fix it.

“Thank you,” that came out easily enough.  “Words do not express how proud I am of you.”

He smiled then, and bowed.  She felt his lips at her knuckles through the bond, which roars to life and makes the world narrow and hum, the Force crackling between them like a power coupling.

Something inside her is breaking.  Don’t go.  I can’t lose you.

I need you.

She doesn’t think at him, knows he didn’t hear her, can’t say this to him as he is leaving, that would be like an emotional time bomb.  Can’t say it to him in their minds, it feels wrong and accidental and why hasn’t she said anything?

She can’t.  She doesn’t want him hurt.  This is too new.  She needs more time.

Annju’s hand on her shoulder is helpful.  He says goodbye to both of them.  She says, “May the Force be with you.”

He leaves.

He leaves.

Rose is standing close enough that her shoulder is brushing against hers.  The gangplank closes and she whispers, “What can I do?”

Is she transparent in this moment, that she is breaking?  She can still see him, but his energy is dwindling.  She is trying not to feel his feelings, that would mean letting him in, and she can’t. She can’t.

“I’ll be ok,” she says, just as softly.  “Let’s track down that intel on the Outer Rim.”

The intel wasn’t enough.  Running for three hours wasn’t enough.  Levitating for the next wasn’t enough.  When she came back down to earth – literally – Rose was staring at her, Connix at her elbow.  Connix told her that she was monitoring his frequency, that he was back. He was fine, his men seemed relieved.  The gala was scheduled for the following night.  Rose told Rey she should sleep.

Rey walked mechanically back to her room.

The throne room was empty.

She did the same thing in the morning, and after she came back to earth Rose was there to take her to lunch.

“I didn’t tell him,” she said dully.

Rose got it immediately.  “Why not?”

“I’m scared,” she whispered, staring down at her plate of food.  Suddenly she needed to get this off her chest.  Rose she could trust.  Rose loved her.

She isn’t alone.

She’d almost forgot. 

“I’ve been having this vision.  He’s hurt.  I don’t know how or why or if I did it.”  She can’t breathe.  The Force screams around her, but it is the emptiness of hyperspace that opens around her, through her.  She whispers, “A Jedi is not afraid.”

“I’m getting Annju,” Rose says shortly.

Finn slides into Rose’s spot, bewilderment clear, and he puts a gentle hand on her back.  “Rose said she’d be right back.”

“Mmhm.”  That seems alright.  Annju is wise.  Annju knows loss.  Knows Rey’s heart.

She isn’t here.  She isn’t anywhere.  His faces looms, he is screaming and hurt and she can’t stop it –

“Come back, Rey.”

It’s her name that calls her, and Annju’s palms are on her cheeks, they are wet.

The world is loud and hammering – the officer’s mess swirls around them, ignorant of Jedi business and the vast frozen wasteland closing in around them.

Annju isn’t speaking, she is simply pushing warmth and life and strength through her palms, and Rey sucks her dry, takes everything she offers.

It’s like a desert and it helps in the cold of space, where she does not belong.  The cold of these visions that are sucking energy and might and focus when she has never needed focus more in her life.  She needs the warmth of a sun, but there is no sun here.  Just trillions of souls teeming and beating and depending on her.  On the city of a planet her lover ruled.  Her apprentice.  Her partner and her sun.

Her maelstrom.  Her singularity.

Her fingers curl around the pendant, and the strength of a desert flows through, a flash of a child, “Is space always this cold?”

Cold.  So cold.  It would drown them both.  Maybe she is screaming.

Luke is now with Annju, a sun to Annju’s moon.  Not the kind of sun she needs, but a sun nonetheless.

Rey opens her eyes.

“I have known this pain all my life,” the words are hers but she never thought they’d come.  But Annju knows this pain.  Knows it like it is her own.  It is. Hers.  “But I see his pain and it is like I’ve never experienced pain before.  I am weak.  A Jedi is not afraid.  A Jedi is not weak.”

“No,” Annju’s voice is strong, she borrows the strength.  “No, Rey.  You are not weak.  You take this pain and you accept it, you grow and shift and change, just like your desert.  You understand that pain is part of being flesh and bone.  To be who you are is not a weakness.  It is a strength.  And a Jedi takes her strength from being, life.  The living Force.  It is all around us.”

“I feel it,” Rey tells her.  And she does.  “But I am cold.”

Not as cold now.  She’s stopped shivering.

“I see fear in you,” Annju acknowledges.  “But I also see weariness, pain, suffering.  These visions Rose mentioned – they have taken a toll.”

“More than I realized,” she admits, finally, honest.  Luke isn’t speaking.  Maybe he is in her mind.

“I see darkness,” Annju whispers, half in meditation, her eyes blown wide.  “It is not so far ahead of you.  It is in your mind.”

His face.  Broken and rabid and screaming.

“There is no death, only the Force,” Rey whispers, echoing the words on Luke’s lips.

The world shifted.  Maybe she was not seeing death.

And if she was only seeing destruction, well, she had dealt with destruction before.

Annju’s eyes stopped swirling like a nebula, and Rey was pulling from her grasp, her spine like steel.

Luke is gone.  If he was ever there.

A Jedi was not weak.  This was barely tenable in the officer’s mess.  She may have needed this, but she could not afford this again.

Annju looked troubled.  “Rey – ”

“Thank you, Master Torkana,” Rey whispered.  “The cold is no longer as pressing.”

Annju studied her intently.  “Come, we have a party to prepare for.”

The normalcy of the statement stunned Rey silent.  She blinked.  “What?”

“The opening ceremony,” Annju smiled, even though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.  Rey hadn’t quite fooled her.  Ice still tried to claw through her heart.  “Leia secured tickets for us.”

This had been the plan.  She could see him.  A rendezvous.

She’d been blocking him.  She didn’t want an eclipse.  Seeing him was likely the closest she could get to a sun.  She missed him, missed how his shoulders could be relaxed, how the corners of his mouth barely turned up when he wanted to smile.

“Excellent,” she murmured.

Annju’s smile suddenly had an edge of light and heat, sharp and cutting.  “I hear you have something to wear.”

Rey rolled her eyes.  Annju had been standing right there.  But it worked – a burst of warmth at the joke speared her throat.  “We’ll see.”

Notes:

Just a reminder (though why I have to say this is beyond me): sexism not welcome here.

Chapter 21: Crimson and Aqua

Leia had secured tickets for not just the Jedi, but a large portion of the Resistance officers, making it easier for them to blend in.

Rey hadn’t planned on bothering as Kylo Ren had blasted her image across the galaxy, but Corran Horn had dug out a Corellian suit, Sabe was in traditional Chandrillan garb, and Annju was showing enough skin to make a Bothan blush in a Twi’lek gown, most of the fabric opaque as a window pane.

Rey was wearing her cloak over the item of clothing that had fallen out of the zipped bag and onto her floor.

She’d never had anything like it before.

The shuttle transport jerked, but she barely noticed – her heart was ice and she was immersed, reaching out – ocean waves and tides and the peace of a river flowing underground, deep below on the surface.

There is no death, only the Force.

She was feeling more stable, more focused.  But the chill of darkness and space still permeated, making the cloak almost necessary.  She didn’t dare reach out to him.  He was with Hux.  She needed to stay apart.  They’d agreed.

Breathing in time with the water helped.

She came back to herself as Rose stopped at her elbow.  They were almost to the platform where the gala was being held, a monstrous cavern of glass and metal, barely within the planet’s atmosphere.  Rose was wearing a simple but gorgeous purple gown, her hand on Finn’s arm.  Finn and Poe both looked uncomfortable in dress uniforms, which made Rey smile.

“Good, I like that,” Rose said.  “That smile suits you, just like that gorgeous crimson.”

Her dress was the rich red of a setting sun.  She fingered the fabric, breathing in and out steadily.

So much danger.

But the calm of the river flowed through her.

She was one with the Force, and she was at peace.

Passion, yet serenity.

“Darkness lies before you,” Annju whispered, but the words held no bite.  “But we will be with you when it comes.”

“We all will,” Rose agreed.  “Won’t Hux or the Knights of Ren notice that you’ve brought other Force users with you?”

“Perhaps,” Rey murmured.  “Perhaps not.  We are quite close to a nexus, the old temple.  The strength of it, the strength of its river is deep and welling.  Distracting.  And they are only looking for me.”  She grinned, at her own expense.  “Sometimes we miss what we are not looking for.”

“Even if they see me and Master Horn,” Annju murmured, “they may miss the others.”

“You are hard to miss, Annju,” Rey smiled.  “You’re gorgeous,”

Annju laughed, and Rey latched onto the sound, smooth, and warm and liquid.  “An old woman like me?  It is you they will stare at.”

Rey found her cheeks hot, and perhaps she was blushing.

He hadn’t pulled any punches.  The dress had barely a top, just two pieces of fabric strategically crossing her chest.  It tied as a robe did, causing one side to be nearly open to her waist, showing off her hip and leg more than she would have done otherwise.  Despite dropping to the floor in yards of silk, nothing about the dress was modest.

She’d never thought she would wear something like this.  Maybe had vague thoughts of dresses and things when she thought beyond, to when her family came back, they left.  It had always been hazy, nothing more than day dreams.  Pictures she’d seen on the holonet, broadcasts in the dingy cafe and bar at the station.

She’d known about the Republic, the glitz and glamour of the Galactic Core.

Though she’d seen more, learned so much – Coruscant was still overwhelming, too many people and colors and sounds.

Maybe a year ago she would have marveled and spun and gawked.

Now, she had an appearance to maintain.

Stars it would be hard.

Her lightsaber was cool against her thigh beneath her gown.

She listened to a story Annju told about the last time she’d danced on Coruscant – a place slavery was supposed to be illegal.  It surprised a laugh out of her – it ended with Annju rescuing a mark, her mind changed.

She wasn’t the only person who thought people changed.

Annju laughed at her laughing at her story.  “Did I surprise you?”

“It shouldn’t have,” Rey smiled.

They docked at one of several northern ports – Rey had studied the blueprints of the massive structure with Annju as Rose had called four different people to procure her shoes, some sort of tape for the dress, powder and ink for her face, ornaments for her hair, and the thigh holster for her lightsaber.  Each had been from Coruscant, each recommended to Rose by Connix or Poe.  They seemed to know people, something Rey did not have the luxury of figuring out.  But she realized that now she knew these people.  Each had left a card, had told her a story or praised her face, her hair, her taste, her weapons.  It was strange.  But helpful.  She felt the part.

Which part?

The woman who wore the gifts of an emperor?  The head of the Jedi Council?

The gangplank hissed.

She exhaled.  She could be both.

Annju took up Ben’s place at her shoulder, as if she knew her disquiet.  Rose and the others went first, ostensibly by accident.  But Rey knew a detail when she saw one.

She’d actually requested this landing pad.  It was farthest from what was functioning as his receiving room – it didn’t have a throne, per se, but there was a lectern where he was supposed to make remarks.

She hadn’t steeled herself, had closed herself off, thought that was enough, thought she was away from this place, in the river beneath the crust and steel streets, living in the blood of the planet, but she was wrong, never had she been more wrong –

I breathe for you, live for you, rule for you, I need you, where are you, come back to me, please.

The gasp had barely crossed her lips, when she was startled back into her own body, Annju’s hand under her arm.  Maybe she hadn’t stumbled, maybe the electricity coursing through the sole of her fanciful shoe and up through every cell and hair and tendon wasn’t making her hair stand on end in its elegant coils, the pleasure of such power was calling through her, pulling her –

No.  She set her shoulders, shot a look to Annju as she steadied herself, both feet on the same ground as him.

Tempered.  More herself though.  She’d noticed that the bond that flowed between them made her feel safer, stronger.

And she wasn’t one to turn down power.

It only grew though.  It was settling across her skin, cloaking her.  It was stronger than it had ever been.  Like they were working together, drawing strength from the same source.

Oh, she wanted to see him more than she had realized.  She’d been blocking that part of herself as well.  But she needed to see him, see him well.  See him at her side, where she could touch him, taste him.

This intake of breath, sharp, sure, was intentional, hers.  She needed to come up with a plan.

The old one was wrong.  She’d thought she would stay in the back.  Wait.  Wait until General Hux was nearby.  Greet him.  Engineer it so they were together, they could evaluate him as a united front.

That was the whole plan.  To wait for that moment.  To minimize contact.

But she did not want to wait.  She wanted Ben.

He’d reeled back at her touch, her footfall, reined in his yawning maw of desire and flames.  Though present in the power across her skin, he was guarded now, just a faint thought.

“I would like to note that you feel like an electrical storm,” Rose murmured.  “Even to me.”

She stretched out her arms, thinking, grounded, and brought her palms together, forcing the strength through her hands and into the reservoir of water and sleep inside.

Stored.  Hiding. Away from prying eyes.

She opened her own eyes, and she couldn’t feel him quite the same but knew he was nearby.  Tried not to reach out again.

“We had to book a suite for you,” Poe murmured, his brow creased with concern.  His eyes lingered on her ankle, where straps wound and she almost switched her skirt to cover before she got control of herself.  She was this person, let him stare.  “You’ll have many well-wishers.”

They went through an opulent entrance, Rey sifting through thoughts and moments and realizing she caught many eyes.

Not his.  He was half the building away.

“No mingling then,” Rey murmured.

“This is safer,” Rose told her.  “We’ll all be here.  Leia has her own suite on the same floor.”

She lost herself in an ocean of souls for a moment, overwhelmed before bringing her focus back in, being present and using the techniques Luke and her teachers had taught her, how to navigate a sea of people.

It was not easy.  She learned more than she wanted in those moments, lies and secrets and snide remarks and prejudice.

But also.  Lust and frenzy and admiration and fervor and awe.

So many sparks, paths walked.  Life.  Teeming. 

She found herself in the area they must have blocked for her, and she removed her cloak, warmed through.

There were dancers and performers and so many beautiful things to see. And taste.  She hoped she would not be stuck in her suite for long, or that she would have to entertain conversation. 

Luckily Rose, Finn, and Annju did most of the talking, and visitors brought food with them.  She listened and ate, tried not to be too distracted.  But she was.  Both by the finery and the certainty that she could see him.

She sank into meditation, lulled by the laughter and awe.  

“Oh no,” she heard Rose breathe.

She opened her eyes.  “What?”

Ah.  Kylo Ren.

He was on one of the screens making welcome remarks.  He was wearing his mask.

His cloak was lined with the blood red of her gown.

There was a moment where she had to dig her nails into her palms to not reach toward him, surreal in seeing him and almost nothing but an echo in the bond, just the heightened senses, the strength of a riptide in her veins.

Rose was looking back at her in trepidation, and she realized that she wasn’t angry somehow.  She was . . . burning. 

He should show his allegiance.  He was hers.

Rose frowned, examining her expression.  “What just happened?”

Rey cleared her throat.  “Change of plans.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” Rey was already moving toward the southern expanse of the complex, the detail hurrying to fall into line.  “Kylo Ren will be giving me a tour.”

“Is that wise?” Finn spluttered from behind her.

“Yes,” Rey said decisively.  “And I don’t need an entire detail.  Some of you should stay here.”

Annju a calming presence at her shoulder, she began to wind her way through the throng, avoiding eye contact with any who might stop her.  Poe and Finn eventually stepped forward, making a way for her in the crush.

The river rushed through her, connecting her to the crowd and she focused on the flow through her, the room.  The present.  This moment.

He had finished his remarks, the throng was applauding, and she pulled on the thread, she was still several rooms away, but he is in front of her, she can’t see his face, but he is here, he is startled and frozen and –

He takes off the helmet. 

His eyes burn into her as she draws closer.

Finally Poe turned, his mouth a thin line, and she was startled, looking away, but then they were in the room and Poe was simply ushering her forward, the hardness in his eyes meant for Kylo Ren, and then he was before her, the helmet under his arm, and she can feel the shock and tension and awe radiating out around him in his advisors, the soldiers, the bureaucrats all spinning in his orbit, all unsure of what to make of him unmasked, unsure of what to make of him in front of her –

He handed the helmet to Hux – gods, the man was good, she’d barely noticed him, his mouth a thin, furious line – and bowed before her, the red of his cloak sweeping through her like his fire, she’d only been away from him for barely a couple of days but she’d missed him, missed this intoxication that came with it, just filling her to the brim in starlight.  She reflexively held out her hand, and he took it, turned her palm over to place a kiss in its center.

Her breath hitched.

He straightened and let go of her hand, but his touch remained on her arm, sliding to cup the back of her neck and she was burning, burning.

How could Hux not know.

But perhaps he thought them blind.  She had been blind.

“Master Skywalker,” he breathed.

She was looking at Hux.  Felt his phantom fingers tighten against her nape, his thumb slide against her jaw.  Brought her gaze back to him.  “Supreme Leader.  General.”

“Master Skywalker,” Hux sounded pained. 

She’d have to concentrate more than she wanted to dive into his mind.  And this wasn’t the place to start a fight.

“Walk with me?”

Ben’s eyes were burning, searing her skin with intensity. “I’d be happy to show you the aquarium,” he rumbled.  “I think that would be of interest to you.”

She was in control again, the bond closed and fizzling, an echo, far away.  His phantom touch fell away.

Then she lightly touched his forearm with her fingertips and the air was humming and so bright she had to straighten, blink.  Settle.

He was still staring at her, devouring her.

She squeezed gently, and he stepped closer, turned to walk by her side.  “I underestimated you,” his voice was meant for her only.  “You’d think I’d learned by now.”

She smiled, unbidden, not bothering to hide it, using its warmth to keep the clamor around them at bay. 

A thought pierced through.  Poe, seeing them from only the doorway away, and she could see the picture they made – he in his impeccable uniform, the scarlet etched cloak, his gaze fixated on her, and she in the crimson, plunging gown, silver slivers of pins crowning coils of hair, eyes winged in black, and lips as red as her gown, upturned at him – it stopped her heart for a moment, she looked . . . happy.

She shook her head as they passed into the next room, hardly noticing the hush, the turning of tides to make way for them, looking back at Ben as a storm cloud chased across his forehead, driving away the happiness she’d also seen there.  Happy.  That is what they were?

She wanted to smooth the scowl, wondering at his disquiet, but a brave server approached them, capturing her attention.  He was stone beneath her fingertips, the muscles in his forearm tightening as she smiled at the Cerean, accepted some sort of seafood item – Jakku did not have fish, let alone whatever tentacled thing this was.  She thought perhaps the hall was becoming quieter, that the ripples of their presence were spreading wider, that heads were turning in their direction.  She swallowed.  He was chafing at the cage of the public eye, chafing at her being this close to Hux – 

He glided his hand into hers, featherlight and stiff and proper, but still hot and too much.  She swallowed her reaction, still as a lake, as he guided her forward to the next room where she could see a wall of water.  But when they passed through the archway, in a blink of an eye he’d slid her behind a dark curtain.  She found herself before a staircase.

Alone.

She stepped up reflexively and turned as he flowed through an open door, gently closing it behind him.  She was taller than him, in heels and on this stair, and she looked down, just drinking him in, like nothing else in the world mattered and it didn’t.  Right now.

The flames swirled around her, the colors of the sun on Jakku, high and burning and taking all the air out of her lungs.

And yet.

Ice.  Darkness.  They were not truly alone with their enemies just beyond this inconsequential door.

She swallowed and straightened her spine.  They were here.  He was with her.  That was enough.

He clasped his hands behind his back, his eyes smoldering like coals.  He bowed again, deep and respectful and her heart was in her throat.  “Master.”

Something in the inflection of his voice made her instantly on edge, and she knew he knew her response even before it crossed her lips – he had wanted it? – but nonetheless she said, “Do you wish to be punished?”

“You are already punishing me,” his voice was deep and modulated, carrying . . . overdone?  Her forehead creased in confusion.  He mouthed, “Hux,” and she stiffened even further, reaching out around them and now she felt, he was literally at the door, listening.

Darkness.

Cloying and calling and aflame.  She recoiled.

Ben tilted his chin down, and he was exuding his desire, his willingness to please her.  Hux must feel him, he was like a beacon, purpose and persistent and sure.  Every breath hers.  Every muscle, every measure of power, hers.  He gave a slight nod, and she thought is this a show?  This is a show.  “I thought that if you wore my dress we’d both win.  I would get to drink you in, I thought of the way the silk would cling to every curve.  And you’d get to see me jealous.”  She licked her lips.  Show or not, each word seared her, but she kept control.  Hux would not know.  Ben’s gaze narrowed.  “But I can’t see others looking at you that way I do.  It makes me mad with rage.  I want to kill every man in that room and then peel that obscene scrap off you with my teeth.”

He didn’t feel mad with rage to her.  Sure, the maelstrom swirled and his anger seethed, but she knew him and knew he was in control.  Clearly he wanted Hux to think lesser of him – but just as clearly he wanted Hux to know that he was hers.  He was jealous.  She would allow that.  “I’ve forbidden you from lashing out in rage.”  She arched a brow.  Did that work?  She’d done no such thing.  But of course he wouldn’t.

“And I will obey you, my Master,” he growled.  “You hold my weapon as you hold my heart.  I exist only to serve you.” 

What a show it was.  Rey tried not to laugh.  Was he not utterly transparent?  But Hux was cold and dark and cunning, and she did not detect a flicker of incredulity, only his deep contempt for her apprentice.

She weighed her next words, but thankfully he provided her a roadmap.  “I beg of you, Master, allow me to at least put the flyboy in his place.”

“I like it when you beg,” she improvised.  “But you will not disobey me if you wish to remain mine.”

He swallowed thickly before smiling almost imperceptibly, and she knew he’d liked the way she’d said mine, could feel it in the heat on her skin, and then in the steps he took closer, crowding her, making her shift one foot a step up and back.  Huge.  His shoulders so broad.

Consuming her as if she were tinder.

“Ben,” she mouthed, ice sliding down her spine.  “He could kill you.”

He leaned into her space, causing her to bend back against the steep staircase, her palm met the edge of a stair.  His fingertips brushed against the necklace he’d given her, and suddenly he smiled, a real smile, and had she ever been cold?

“I am yours to command, my Master,” he enunciated clearly, she knew so his voice would carry, his eyes still fixed on the japor snippet, and she wanted to cross the distance between them so badly, but the threat beyond was insurmountable.  His knees audibly hit the lowest stair and she started, so focused was she on Hux and his immeasurable contempt and hate for Kylo Ren.  He growled, bringing her attention back to him sharply.  “I am on my knees before you.  You are ravishing, exquisite, I can almost taste you.  Allow me to please you.”

She’d stopped breathing. He brought his gaze up to hers, and he was breathing harder than he should be, he was taunt as a bowcaster and then she felt below the surface, his desire not to kill every man in the hall, but at least Hux.  “Say no,” he mouthed.  

She had to wet her dry lips, and now he stared at her mouth and he looked as hungry as he had before he’d had a taste.  She breathed out before she managed in a cool tone, “Not now.  Perhaps if you behave.”

“I will be on my best behavior, Master,” he rumbled, bending his head carefully to place the lightest kiss at the corner of her mouth.

Hux was still at the door.

He groaned in frustration, his shoulder hitting hers and she wrapped her free arm around him and for a moment it was just nice to be present, even with the pall over them.  He was shaking and then she knew how hard it might actually be, for him, to not burst back through the door, cerulean humming, slicing down – “Don’t,” she murmured, as quietly as she could.  “Leave him.”

She waited a moment, moving her fingers into his soft hair, stroking gently, listening hard with her ears, her tendons, but Hux was swirling in place, still. With effort, she shrugged Ben up, clambered to her feet, and grabbed his hand to drag him up the stairs.  He didn’t resist. 

They emerged onto a walkway high above the aquarium.  It was noticeably quieter, above the din, and she gasped when she looked down and saw a colorful ray flip below them, swimming lazily.  “I have never seen anything like that before,” she murmured.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder, his breathing even and hot at her neck.  “I sent for it.  I knew you’d like it.”

She tensed.  “He can’t see us?”

He hissed, straightening and tightening his grip on her.  “I know you thought it funny, but I was barely acting.”

“You wouldn’t go on a rampage through all the eligible bachelors down there,” she smiled.

“I’d kill him,” he snarled.  “And then,” she heard him inhale, his chest heaved against her.  “And then.”  Rey was distracted by his muscles so she was surprised when he said, “You would be safe.”

She’d been thinking idly of what she wanted to do to him, so she tilted her head back and said, “You would be safe.  We’d finally get those hours undisturbed in your room.  Maybe I’d make you scream.”

The look in his eyes was heat and thunder and might and wonder and so much more than the lust he’d been using to throw Hux off their scent and he also looked surprised, though she wasn’t sure why and he said, “Rey – ”

Pain lanced through her suddenly, making her clutch at her head and bend away from him, trying her best not to give voice to the agony –

Ice and fear and anger and hate –

Endor.

The might of crystal and moon shattered in an ocean.

Waves. Swirling, pulling – laughter, manic -

Ben, her Ben, screaming, raging, heartbroken –

“Only now at the end, do you understand.”

Hux –

Death.  Enough to blot out the stars.

She came back to herself in a gasp, shaking with the cold of space and an ocean far away.  They were tucked into the walkway out of sight, she was in a ball and sheltered by his arms, and she wished they had had more time, she wished he was truly safe, she was certain of the path before her –

Darkness lies in wait.

She was rising, vaulting over the rail without a moment to spare, and she knew he was right behind her, he’d felt the agony of the premonition as if it were his, their precautionary walls across their bond smashed by the violence of the vision, he could feel the echo of the rage Hux had used to plan his escape to Endor, there was something he wanted desperately there, she couldn’t let him have – some Sith relic?

Ben landed heavily behind her, and then they were running, dodging, faster than she thought possible in such a throng, Ben holding her hand, when he could, maneuvering them through, over, vaulting over tables, propelling off walls, she hadn’t run a course like this since her bridge was newly built.

And not in heels.  Ben was helping more than she would normally need or allow.

Hux had barely a head start on them, but it was enough that she didn’t think they’d catch him, and though she didn’t know what he’d planned, they’d both felt the pain of millions of souls calling out at once in horror and then silenced.

I can stop this, she told herself.  I am powerful.  I am a Jedi.

The Silencer has warp tracking.

He was leading her now to one of the entrances – whichever closest to his ship.  And she realized –

You can’t come, you have to stay here.

His rage was real this time, and she heard him, really heard him, screaming – “No!”

She slammed the doors behind her, forcing them closed, not looking back as she pelted across the platform to the Silencer, hearing his wordless roar of rage behind her but it was like the Force ran through her to the core of this planet and everything in the air, the earth far away, the metal beneath her was driving her forward, she needed to get into the ship, she had to catch Hux –

She was vaulting in, controls humming and living around her, she was focused on the warp tracking – where –

It’s right here.

His voice is icy and she slumps against the console as the Silencer spins out and away, finds Hux’s ship, streaks out into a galaxy too big for her, too small to hold both her and Ben.

He is windswept, must have broken through the doors, she notes as she finally straightens to meet his gaze.

“You know you have to oversee the delegates conference,” she tells him.  But her heart is aching, he is so far away, and the heat and light is gone.

“I am your apprentice,” he hissed.  “It is my right to go with you.”

“Not this time,” she swallowed. “You felt it too.  We don’t know what Hux plans.  You must stay on Coruscant and guard against his Knights.”

“I should be with you.”

The crimson of his cape snaps in a wind she cannot feel and she reaches for him. “Please.  You must protect what you have tried to build – all those people – ”

His back is ramrod straight, his hands clasped behind his back, and he is still swirling like a maelstrom, hurt and rage and concern and fear.  The concern edges but he is wounded by her and – “I will obey you, Master.”

Everything is cold.  “No – ”

He is gone.

Notes:

Drawing to a close here. This story has got me through so much in the last year and a half. It’s been a pleasure to share it with all of you.

Let’s hope, in my country, our story doesn’t lead to democracy dying to thunderous applause.

Chapter 22: I Am Not Alone

In the hours and days between Coruscant and the Endor system, Rey couldn’t sleep.

Did she need to sleep?

She was drowning in an ocean, a vastness that she was still learning to harness, to muster.  She moved from revelation to fight to stupor, an infinite river flowing through her veins, every nerve tingling as she immersed herself in teachings, spent endless minutes balanced on fingers, ignoring the humming thrum of light speed, the growing guilt of acting so impulsively.

She’d left all of them, not just Ben.

She thought it would take the Silencer, tracking Hux, three days to arrive.

On the second day she reached out for Annju.

Her friend was strung out like she’d never felt.

I know you pursue the Sith.  But these Knights of Ren are trouble. 

I know.  But all I saw was death if I did not go.

Annju was not upset.  But she was as close to fear that Rey had felt from her since the day the Silencer had shot to earth on her planet.  He told us you had no choice.

Some of Rey’s tension eased.  I have to try to stop Hux.  Millions of souls hang in the balance.

Solo felt it too.

So he had cooperated.  She had had faith.  Such death I had not felt since the General destroyed the Hosnian system.

We will hold as you move to stop him, Annju was in a delegate’s box, Leia’s.  Waiting, watching, standing at her right hand.  Wearing a Jedi cloak, simple and stark next to Leia’s high-collared, gold-embroidered mauve gown.  A statement, for the galaxy to see.  They know me now.  They know he is not alone. 

Rey saw through her eyes, saw Kylo Ren brooding in the center of the arena.  Waiting. 

He trained with me yesterday and this morning. He is doing better than I expected.

Thank you, my friend.

On the third day, Anakin arrived.  She was standing before the viewport, clothed in one of Ben’s tunics as if it were a dress.  She shivered, but the cold kept clarity close and sleep far away. 

She had set shoulders against the chill and he was there, standing next to her, his shoulders similarly set, staring out into the blur of space.

“Nice necklace.”

Rey brushed it with her fingertips, the heat of a desert planet echoing through her.  “Thank you.”

“You should ask him what it means,” he told her.

“If he ever speaks to me again.”  She only half meant it as a joke.

“You should go back.”

“What?!”  Rey turned to face him, but he was still, his hands clasped behind his back.  She could read Ben in the tendons in his neck, the tilt of his chin, the scar on his cheek—but he himself was unreadable.  “If I do not go, many will die.”

“That is not certain.  And if you return, you may still prevent the darkness you saw.”

“I know what I felt.”

“The future is always changing,” Anakin’s eyes were unsettling, such a shade of blue that to imagine them volcanic was nearly impossible.  “You know this, Rey.”

“I will return as soon as I am able,” she murmured.  “The darkness lies before me.  And it must be faced.”

“Rey,” Anakin sounded far away, and tired.  “Trust the Force.  Trust the strength you draw from your family.  You are not alone.”

“Thank you, Master.”

She meditated for the rest of the trip.

Passion but serenity.

Emotion but calm.

Despite her guilt, despite being alone, she was confident in the choice she had made.  She knew that something dark and terrible awaited. 

But this was her destiny. 

Darkness – the darkness that had haunted the edge of her dreams, for months, if she was being honest – called to her. 

She dozed.

The throne room burned.

She blinked, shocked momentarily, before she heard it.

She hadn’t been here in so long.

“Please.”

She closed her eyes, swallowed, and then he was standing before her, wearing a Jedi robe, hers, the cowl casting a shadow, and her heart jumped in her throat, seeing him as he wished to be.

Seeing him with the weight of centuries and destiny on his shoulders.  It looked good on him.

And he’d slept wrapped in her cloak.  The ache inside, the chasm that had opened the day she’d first had the vision of heartbreak and pain, it felt deep and insurmountable. 

Her fingers curled around the necklace, clinging for purchase.  She wasn’t good at this.  She didn’t know how to love someone without pain.

“Please forgive me.”  The words scrape her throat before they fall amidst the flames.

His pain rises like smoke between them and she can’t move from her meditative pose, kneeling parsecs away from him and yet she is here, she is where she is supposed to be.  With him.  She’d hurt him? 

No.  His anger she knew.  His pain she did not want.

“Please come back.”

His consternation twists through the words and against her like a lash, and she gasps.

“I can’t ignore what I saw!”  It’s reflexive and not what she means and she scowls, of course he knows that, what is she saying –

“I know you don’t need me.”  His voice is quiet and pained and every bit of his insecurity shines through to cut her deep.  No, she had never said that, it isn’t true, please, Ben – “But I need you.  And they need you.  I know it’s a burden, but we care about you.  I care about you.  Please.  Let me fight by your side.”

“I can’t lose you too!”

She feels his shock radiate out, whipping the flames, but she’d meant it, was it the right thing to say?  But he had to know, he was her star, her moon –

She started, brought from her reverie by the proximity alarm.  The Endor system in fifteen minutes. 

A whisper of the bond remained, and he twisted in his sleep, on the edge of wakefulness.  The way he had started – it had felt like the other times he had realized she did not know something he thought she knew.

What should she have known?

She shook it off, preparing the Silencer for landing, reading his past actions in the air he’d breathed, the metal he’d touched.  

She’d accounted for the blockade, activating the stealth field generator and approaching not far behind Hux, screaming past the forest moon, the site of the Battle of Endor.  It was not her destination.  She didn’t want to rely on the ship’s First Order signature – she couldn’t afford Hux to be alerted to her presence. 

She moved to the view screen, every nerve on alert, staring out at the ships ringing the moons of Endor.

Something wasn’t adding up. 

“Computer,” she breathed.  “Full scan of the fleet.  Report.”

“Three Star Destroyers, six dreadnoughts, three mining crews, Supreme Leader,” came the tinny voice. 

What were mining crews doing out here?

They were clustered around her destination.  The ocean moon.

It called to her like Ahch-To, a massive watery grave, teeming with forgotten secrets and might.  Though this moon had not been forgotten for long, it seemed. 

This ocean seethed with blood and metal it had not wanted, after laying undisturbed for so long – centuries, perhaps millennia.  As she entered the atmosphere, she was arrested by the might of its storms – not as deadly as those of sand, surely, but spitting, howling through the ruins she’d seen in her mind’s eye, her inner eye opened by the Force. 

The Death Star. 

But it was not as she had seen. 

Two of the mining crews had massive drills buried in the sea, churning waves and debris like massive sarlacc pits.  The third crew’s tractor beam was siphoning off grit and sand, rain swirling through the particle beam counterclockwise, imposing an eerie order amidst the chaos of the storm. 

She landed the Silencer without incident near part of the ruins and settled in to wait for Hux. She’d beat him.  He was on one of the starships. 

She drifted back to meditation, lulled by the swirling of the particle beam.  What did he need here?

Finally, after hours without Hux, curiosity got the better of her, and she decided to investigate.

She exited the craft as carefully as she could, stepping out onto metal, giant slabs, built in the cold outer reaches of space.

She shivered.

She crept toward the rocks near the ocean’s edge, to where she would be able to see the mining better, the black of her borrowed tunic and cloak hiding her as best it could.  Her fingertips curled around a rock as she hoisted herself up to see and –

A dark screech, an off-tune melody shot out at her from the deeps – this moon was tinged with it, it was sunk into every pore – hit her right in the chest, and she is freezing, she is drowning – she is pulled through a whirlpool into a cavern of crystal, near stripped bare, dark and broken and split by lightning, by death and darkness and a presence she had felt before –

It sucks her in, the ice blossoming through her chest, the melody changed, it is cloying and echoing and the red of a rising sun, a sun that bursts through her with a humid syrupy heat –

She is dizzy with it, dizzy with the power of the cavern below, barely a sliver of the kyber that used to rest here in this ocean of greed and burned out might.

The kyber is twisted and stained red, the souls of millions burned into its facets, and it calls out to her –

Join me.

The darkness lies within her, too, singing, grasping –

She clawed at the japor snippet, gasping for breath, the heat and dunes flooding between her fingers, exploding through her chest. 

So you’d remember me.

She fell back onto the metal ruins, ripping herself away from the stone of this moon, tainted, jagged and cutting. 

Hux had been mining kyber from the ruins of the Death Star.

She crawled back under an overhang, rain seeping into the cloak and she was shivering and tired and –

Afraid. 

But a Jedi was not afraid.

There is no chaos, there is harmony.

There is no death, there is the Force.

She had to warn them.  What could he have done with the kyber?

A shiver of unease went through her spine.  Should she not have come?  But how would she have learned of this calamity, this monstrosity, otherwise?

She reached out – but something else grabbed her, pulled her.

A hint of a vision, a broken window, a storm raging below, called to her.

She was already turned back to the ruins.

Without thinking, she leapt and jumped and swung her way through the cracked cavity of the battle station, trying to sense Hux, monitoring the storm outside.  Whatever called to her drew her in, beckoning her.

She was suddenly standing in a room broken by the heat of a cataclysm.  A round segmented window looked blindly out, a single chair listlessly tilted below. 

A place of some significance within the Death Star, she realized.  And bathed in lightning and blood. 

Laughter, phantom and repulsive, startled her – her fingers wrapped instinctually around the hilt of her lightsaber.

“Grotesque, isn’t it?”

Hux.

She stiffened her spine, wondering how he’d gotten the jump on her like this, but no time for that, only deep breaths.  She was an ocean, powerful and calm and deep.  She turned, did not activate her blade. 

“All of this, the labor, the credits, the kyber, that was put into this battle station – wasted.”

She didn’t move.  He was alone.  Ramrod straight in his black uniform, similar to the one she had donned for this confrontation.  She tested the air around him, and he was triumphant, smug.  Sure.

She took another breath.  She had made her choice.  She was here.  She would see this through.  

The call still pulled at her – there was a massive door behind her, relatively untouched by fire and ruin.  Whatever lay beyond that door – this was why Hux was here. 

This was why she was here. 

“I sensed your horror when you felt the kyber,” he murmured, his brows drawn together as his lips twisted in a smirk.  “But is it not glorious?  It is strong enough to withstand fire and blood, and yearns for new purpose.  A purpose I will give it.” 

So self-righteous.  She’d missed that tenor of his thoughts initially.  Dark and frayed and single-minded.  Certain he was right, he knew best. 

She stayed silent.

His face creased with hate, and he hissed, “I have created a new superweapon.  The galaxy will fear me, yield before me once I have wiped out your Resistance and that craven, broken man you call Ben Solo.”

The souls lost in the agony of her vision – she had thought they would be out here, with Hux, that she could cut him off at the source, stop him.  But those souls had been lost – an entire planet, Alderaan.  Their blood stained this moon now – and millions, no trillions, more hung in the balance.  And that danger was not here.  

It was on Coruscant. 

Her lips parted in shock, and pain, and rage, quick and hot and unmistakable, and she was unable to hide it, and his smile was cruel, thrilled with his victory.  “Yes,” he hissed. “They are powerless to stop me.  And you are here.  In the Outer Rim, the far reaches of space.  You cannot help them.”

She was barely focused on Hux, she was focusing on their bond, through the Force to him, she did need him, calling out, please –  “Why are you telling me this?”  Her voice was quiet, as quiet as her ocean before a storm, still, focused, far from this place, but this moon was drenched in hate and pain, there was so little for her to draw strength from here – and he was so far away – she couldn’t feel him -

“Because you cannot stop me.”  Hux took a step closer to her, and she intuitively stepped back, but he had wanted that, what did he want with her here –

“Why am I here?”

A trap.  He’d wanted her to follow him. 

“Now your friends are defenseless,” he spat.  “Your precious apprentice cannot save them.  He is weak.  He fell for your tricks and promises of power and hope.  But you can give him nothing.  Because you are nothing.”

“Then why am I here,” she repeated.  He wanted something from her.  She could tell.  And something was stirring in the darkness behind her, yet another thing blocking her from any sort of life and strength and connection with the living Force.  All around her – blood and ruin and death.  If she reached out below – an imprint of Vader’s volcanic ire, the red heat that could consume her if she was not careful.

This wasteland was not for her.  She had to get out of here.  But not before she stopped Hux. 

“Even peasants can have a purpose,” Hux’s smile was freezing and she had to will her breath not to cloud in the frigid air.  Endor’s binary suns were behind the gas giant, this moon in twilight.  Far.  The suns were too far and weak to bring her warmth here.  “I need you to obtain something for me.  Consider it a test.”

She’d finally hit a wellspring, deep beneath the moon’s surface, water that fed into a lake beyond this ocean, landlocked, untainted by the rust and blood of the Dark Side.  She breathed it in, fresh air.  Clean.  Bright.  “I’m leaving.”

“Are you listening to me?” Hux nearly screamed, the rage and hate and now, she could feel, might boiling to the surface.  “You are here because I willed you here.  You have no power here, Jedi.”

“Then why are you afraid?” 

And he was.  Perhaps not of her. 

“It is you who should be afraid,” he bit out. 

She took a step forward, and he lashed out, lightning burning and sizzling toward her, and she braced herself, met it with ease, but she lost a step, had to readjust her footing –

Laughter.

She rolled, letting her grip on the lightning go awry as she moved away, spinning to see who could have possibly made that twisted, grating sound –

The massive, polished doors behind her opened, and she stumbled, the floor tilting, the world spinning –

She was in a throne room.

Not his.  But the guards were the same.  She was on a set of stairs, below the throne, below the giant, circular window.

But the window had been broken, where –

“Only now at the end, do you understand.”

The voice was chilling and cruel and accompanied by the laughter, the laughter she had heard several times, in dreams, in visions.  Ice howled and clawed and stole her breath, impossible stars stretched beyond the window, the darkness welling and cloying –

The throne turned.  

She knew what she would see, but – this time, this time, she got a grip.  A breath.  In and out.  A moment in time, captured.  This splinter, imprinted in this ruin, for she was still in a ruin.  She was not in a space station, blown to smithereens a life time ago.  She was not part of this darkness.  She was stronger than it.  She did not need it. 

Emperor Palpatine couldn’t be here.  He was dead. 

Another simulacrum.

She whipped around, and Hux was standing before an elevator below her, at the foot of the steel stairs.  He looked inordinately pleased.  “Defeat him, and I will bring you to the Sith homeworld,” he told her.  “You crave power?  I will give it to you.  You will see – your withered books and ancient ghosts are no match for the Dark Side.”

“I never wanted power,” she told him.  And it was true.  “I just wanted Ben.”

Hux sneered at her, and his jealousy was a pall around them, thick and cloying.  “Then you are a fool.  But you’ll learn.”

She conserved her energy, ignoring him, realizing that Palpatine must have built this to protect whatever was behind the door in the reality where this room was shattered and burned – a vault, and whatever Hux needed was there.  “You couldn’t defeat him,” she realized.  “He denied you what you want.”

Hux made an odd movement with his wrist, and snarled, “If you cannot defeat him, he will be satisfied with your blood.” 

His hand.  The simulacrum had taken his hand.

Rey turned back to the ghoul in the throne.  Grounded.  The lake she’d found on the other side of the moon was helping, giving her clarity.  She’d need it.  She would need everything she’d learned and stored for this day. 

Still not quite enough to reach beyond this trap, this yawning maw of history and the Dark Side she was caught in. 

Maybe Ben had heard her last call before she’d got sucked in.  If not, she would have to conserve her strength, wait until she could build up a better connection through the Force.  Reach out again. 

She would have to wait.

The figure on the throne spoke.  “You are mistaken, about a great many things.”

“No.  I am one with the living Force,” she breathed, before she slid off the stairs and into the darkness beyond.  

Three hours later, she was dripping sweat, but she was calm, sure.  She’d spent much of the time testing the boundaries of this chamber, how far the Sith Lord had built the illusion of this throne room. 

Dodging and rolling and hiding.  Sparring when she had to, and she learned patterns quickly – Hux maintained his vigil by the elevator, though she’d tricked the simulacrum into confronting him at least twice. 

Finally.  The strength of the lake had built within her, and she flung herself at the binary stars, burning with their heat and might, and it undid her to the vastness of the universe, the ruins still bleeding into her, cloying, holding her back, but –

She was strong.  And she wasn’t alone. 

The bond roared to life.

She fell from her crouch underneath the stairs, too much blinding her senses all at once, Annju and Sabe and Corran screaming through with him, lightsabers drawn, locked in combat. 

An amphitheater opened before her, a shattered glass wall letting in a roar of atmosphere that she could hear but not feel as it whipped through the enclosure.  She could also hear the screams of civilians, she couldn’t see them, couldn’t see beyond the edges of his focus, and he was focused on the giant ship that had opened a gangplank into the amphitheater's crystal dome – there were stormtroopers, firing past him, into a crowd?  Corran was deflecting blaster bolts, Annju and Sabe were fighting a pair of Knights.  The other master and apprentice she’d brought with her, a quiet man and a young female Wookie, were preoccupied by one –

Ben was fighting the other two. 

When he spun, Finn came into view, he was covering Ben, shooting past him at the stormtroopers attempting to mow him down. 

The ship looked like an extraction mission?  But –

“Ben!” she screamed. 

“No!” she heard Hux behind her, livid, freezing and writhing. 

The simulacrum was also behind her, and she had to veritably throw herself across the lower level to avoid its – extremely real – lightning, and as she landed and rolled, she heard Ben screaming back, horror coloring his voice.

Hux wasn’t an idiot.  He’d sent his people to wreak havoc on the convention and recover the Knights of Ren as soon as he’d pinned her down.  Even if he didn’t respect his Supreme Leader, he clearly knew that he and Rey could communicate through the Force.  He’d banked on the darkness of this moon swallowing her, drowning her. 

He’d underestimated her. 

She seized on that thought to hack through a pillar, sending it crashing toward the Emperor and giving her moments to breathe, move into another sector of the tower.  Turn back to Coruscant. 

Sabe was hurt, Rose had dragged her behind an overturned table – Annju had left one of the Knights writhing on the ground in agony behind her in retaliation. 

“You have to stop that ship!” she managed to gasp out as he whirled and spun in a deadly dance with his two opponents.  

Hux was growling orders she couldn’t decipher into a commlink, and lightning was flashing toward her again –

She couldn’t just take this simulacrum out and escape – she still had an awful feeling about whatever lay beyond the vault doors.  She was certain she could not let Hux get the relic, whatever it was. 

She could tell now, from her vantage point, that the Knights were definitely attempting to get out of the glass amphitheater.  Annju was pinned, trying to protect a cell of civilians as the Knight she’d been fighting sprinted for the ship.  The Wookie apprentice was howling, stabbed through the thigh, and her Master was protecting her, attempting to defend against stormtroopers, as the Knight they had been fighting also got away. 

Ben was still hammering away at the other two, but as she watched, one of them broke away, deflecting blasts from Finn and also fleeing to the ship.

Whatever play Hux had, he was going for it now.

She deflected lightning over her shoulder with her blade, for a split-second thinking, maybe she should defeat him.  Go after Hux next.  If she could destroy the remnants of the Dark Lord of the Sith, she could take on Hux.

But she didn’t know how many men Hux had here, and she had been fighting for hours.  Hux was fresh, an unknown.  Not a risk lightly taken. 

And regardless.  She wasn’t on Coruscant.  Ben was. 

Ben was . . .

She could feel his anger warring with the calm she’d been using to keep away from the Emperor.  He was deep in the river of power that ran through Coruscant, grounded in the Force nexus of the Jedi Temple.  He felt steady, not focused on vengeance, or power, or blood, but on the living with him, protecting them.  Stopping this. 

She thrust the mining operation into his mind as the second Knight turned, trying to make a run for it.  Ben was right behind him, delivering a crippling blow, even as she knew what she had seen registered with him, as she felt his concern sharpen, spike. 

He turned toward the ship.  Now he was sprinting toward the gangway, dodging blasts deflected from his other opponent, already halfway to their destination, but Ben was gaining, a scream of energy was building –

A blast of lightning grazed Rey’s arm.  She fell, an agonized yell pushing past her lips, she felt Ben stumble –

Hux was howling now.  “There’s nothing you can do to stop me!  Coruscant will burn!  And then you will be alone and helpless before me.  Just like your parents were.”

Time stood still for a moment, and, frozen for that heart beat, she couldn't quite miss the second blast, catching her arm in the same place.  Agony. 

But clarity.  She gasped, pushing herself behind a pillar, trying to steady her breath.  He was lying. 

There is no death, there is the Force. 

Well.  They were dead.  But she wasn’t.

Hux was screaming, “I will break you!  You will be mine!”

“I don’t belong to anyone,” she gritted out, flinging herself up and over the stairs, meeting the simulacrum blade for blade before the impossibly perfect window, the unbroken throne. 

Ben was only half paying attention to his adversary, his gaze burning into Hux like he could affect him from lightyears away, and she wasn’t even sure if he would make it to the gangway – he couldn’t, the ship was closing, peeling away –

The Knight of Ren had turned back, was running for Ben, death reflected in his eyes –

No –

Rey dove. 

She’d done it without thinking, without gauging distance or possibility, but she knew, deep in her bones, with every fiber of her being, and the binary suns were singing through her, the Force was with her, wanted her to be with this man –

She barreled into Ben, he was warm, so warm, tumbling him to the floor, away from the deadly bolt she’d seen aimed at his back, closing her eyes, she heard Hux’s impotent scream –

Then Hux was gone from her consciousness.  The simulacrum, the ghost of the Sith Lord Sidious – gone. 

She opened her eyes.  Looked straight down into his, dark and shocked and burning bright.  His fingers dug into her shoulders and the might of a supernova gushed through her and around her and she knew what she had to do. 

She surged to her feet and took off across the amphitheater, barreled through the broken glass and hurdled into the atmosphere beyond –

Straight into a laser beam of twisted lightning and bloodied kyber, little better than what the simulacrum had thrown at her, and she was full to the brim with heat and light, screaming – kriffing sands this pain – but she was a creature of heat and light, and this tainted thing had no hold on her. 

He did. 

He was holding her aloft in the sky, and with their power, their bond filling her cells, there was nowhere for the lightning to go but back, back through her palms, facing out toward Hux’s weapon, blasting it away –

Her eyelids stuttered, the view of the explosion glossy and fuzzy and moving away from her too fast to be natural – she was burned out, consumed by the might of a sun, but what a sun it had been.  Being with Ben. 

For a moment she felt his fingers brush her cheek, she saw his face between her eyelashes, and he was heartbroken, furious, in pain, so much pain –

Hers, doubled and reflected back.  

Ben. 

Light flooded behind her eyelids. 

Notes:

I honestly wanted to post this right before the election, but I couldn't bring myself to. Didn't need a cliffhanger in the middle of a cliffhanger week. Finally have had some minutes to tidy it up and bring it to you. The last chapter will be out around the new year, my parting shot at 2020.

I once promised that Palpatine wasn't in this (because fuck him and "the dead speak!") and had to rescind my promise . . . but I maintain I technically kept it.

Hope you and yours are safe well - drop a line in the comments from wherever you are!

Chapter 23: Nexus

She may have been in a Bacta tank. 

She may have responded, by blinking, to a doctor in a pristine white lab coat that hurt her eyes.

She may have been asleep, undisturbed, a deep sleep, for the first time in many months. 

Because waking up was proving difficult.  The darkness was warm and deep and safe, an ocean.

Was this what sleep was like for other people?  It was nice.  Maybe she would do it more often.

The living Force whispered out to her through the darkness, green and bright and singing.  Almost quiet in its curl - not weighed down by souls or thoughts or visions or screams - sentient beings.  Just her and the universe, basking in the glow of growing things, in the glow of burning stars and the wonder of all of this, tied together.  Interdependent.

How had she ever thought that she was alone?

Then reality, or maybe her version of it, began to creep back in.

“Please.”

The word rolled through her like a tidal wave, destroying her defenses, hurting.  She didn’t want to lose him.  He had been so hurt.

“Please, Rey.  Please come back to me.  I should have taken that blast, I should have been with you on Endor.  Please.  I told you, I will spend a lifetime making up for my sins.”

But he already had.  She’d forgiven him.

“I should have told you every day.  I know you don’t feel the same way.  I am not worthy.  But I love you.  I love you so much it hurts.  I can’t bear the thought of not being by your side. I love everything about you.  Your funny accent.  The way your nose crinkles when you are mad.  The way you trick me when we spar.  Your gorgeous hair.  That smile you give me when I’ve made you happy.  The way your legs wrap around my waist when you want me to fuck you.  Your mouth – ” his voice broke.  She thought, I should wake up.  “I would do anything to hear your voice again.  I’ll take anything you’ll give me.  I just want to be in your life, like the rest of your family.”

I want to give you everything.  Just like you give me.

But she was still asleep.

Time may have passed.

Then Annju was laughing, bursting through the dark as moonshine – “If it isn’t General Skywalker – The Hero With No Fear!”

“Very funny, Torkana,” Ben said darkly, and she could tell he was far away – where, why –

Annju was insistent – at least she was with him, wherever he was.  “I’m serious!  I saw the holo-posters as a child.  Jedi General Anakin Skywalker – The Hero With No Fear.  He helped free Ryloth during the Clone Wars.”

“Father!” Leia’s voice was so sharp it could have cut through glass – where the blazes were they?  “You didn’t bother to tell him who you were?”

“I’d – ” Ben’s voice was a bit strangled, “ – mostly pieced it together.”

“Rey.”

Luke was there, in the hazy world of sleep jolting her from that moment, audible from lightyears away.  Smiling at her.  “You did it, kid.  You stopped an attack on Coruscant.”

Good.

“You should go back.”

Oh. Was this a decision she had to make?

The darkness was so comforting, and the greenery soaring through her – she’d never felt more at peace.  More alive.

“You’ll return here, one day. Not today.”

Rey opened her eyes.

The ceiling was white.  Not the rock from one of her quarries.  Not her quarters.

She blinked, her eyes felt grainy.

Rose said, “Kriff.  Rey!”

She felt Rose’s hand curl around hers, and she made an effort to reciprocate, her skin tingling at the contact.  Sore.  She felt very sore.

She turned her head, and Rose was seated next to her, her other hand clamped over her mouth, clearly emotional.

“Get Leia!” Rose sounded overwrought and Rey strengthened her grip on her, pushed calm through her fingers, and Rose inhaled, breathing deep.  “No – Rey, you have to conserve your strength, I’m well.”

A black hole opened in her chest, sucking and ravaging her heart.

He wasn’t here.

“Where?” She rasped.

Finn was next to Rose now, and he was smiling, a blinding, beautiful smile as his fingers dug into Rose’s shoulder.  “Medical wing of the Supremacy.  We’re in orbit around Coruscant.”

No, where –

He might have heard her.  “Solo should be back from Endor very soon,” he told her.  “He went to find Hux.”

No –

“Annju went with him,” Rose reassured her, squeezing her hand.  “Sabe wasn’t badly hurt so she went too.  Leia just got back.  She went with part of the fleet – they shouldn’t be far behind.”

“What happened?” she got out, her dry throat rasping and Rose dropped her hand to get her a drink.

Poe came in with Leia, his jaw tight, “– he’s completely reckless, General, you can’t expect him to be a fit leader – ”

“So were you once,” Leia said, a laugh coloring her voice. “You could still use some work.”  She turned her attention to Rey.  “My dear!  You d0on’t look quite as pale.”

She tried to clear her throat and accepted the glass of water from Rose, rising up slightly so that she was propped up on pillows that Finn helpfully positioned for her. “Thanks,” she said, after she’d drained it.  Cataloguing her body, she found aches and soreness – nothing too painful.  “Am I on pain medication?”

“Not anymore,” Rose told her.  “The Bacta helped.  You have some scarring though.”

Her shoulder where Sidious had grazed her certainly.  She craned her neck, and there was a starburst remanent of a burn.  She cleared her throat again, “I don’t feel dead.”

Leia laughed.  “You scared us for a moment there.”

The heat of a thousand suns, radiating into her chest, stained by darkness and lightning and death –

She took a breath, trying to steady herself.  Repeated, “What happened?”

Leia sat down next to her, gesturing a medic into the room who immediately began to scan her.

“Well.  You didn’t die, despite best efforts.  That blast should have blown right through you.”

“Just energy,” she murmured, her hand now closing around a mug of tea from the medic.  It was wonderfully hot.  

Leia laughed, and emotions rushed through her.  Relief, joy, concern.  “My dear, very few things are only energy.”

Rose patted her knee.  “You came out of nowhere.  Ben said – ”

“Oh, I can’t wait to hear this,” Rey grumbled into her tea.

“ – that it had almost happened before.  You’d taken something from him, had moved things when you were light years away.”

“He never told me that.”

“He said you took his lightsaber through the Force last week.”

Rey felt heat bloom through her, thinking about that altercation in the hangar.  “I guess it didn’t seem like that big of a deal at the time.”  Not compared to what had come after.  Not compared to the vision that had begun to plague her.  Ben.  Broken like the glass around him in the amphitheater.  Now she could place it. 

“You saved his life,” Leia said, interrupting her thoughts, and the general’s eyes were shining, she was light and life and the opposite of that dark dream.  “You saved trillions of lives.”

“And you Force-traveled from the Outer Rim to do it,” Finn laughed.

They were all so happy, she thought as she excused herself for the ’fresher, brushing off Rose after she helped her from the bed.

She wasn’t.

She was on the other side now, she realized. Her vision had shattered and flung him and her together in destruction and ruin – but they’d survived.

But would he be happy to see her?  She’d left him.

She’d left all of them.

And she knew that pain.  And it was immense.

She tested the air in the room where her friends waited as she finished rinsing herself off.  Poe had said something to Finn and they were laughing with Rose, Leia was smiling softly at them, seeming at ease.

None of them seemed angry. 

And, after all, she had done it because she thought it was the best way to protect them.  She stared harder at the love and joy spinning around her as she stepped back into the room, dressed in clean clothes and feeling much better.  Hm.  They seemed to know that. 

“Ah,” the sharp gasp of pain left her lips unbidden as she twisted suddenly, the fire burning through her –

Fury, unadulterated, flooded through her, spiking behind her eyes and she saw:

Ben, speechless in loss and anger, cradling her, gently placing her in Annju’s arms, springing out into the abyss beyond broken windows, making for the badly damaged ship, the Knights of Ren, and there was a splash of blood and ruin –

Ben, roaring in rage, spinning through the Death Star’s throne room, his blue blade fragmenting and slicing through Hux, defenseless, at his mercy –

She choked, had this happened, had these things happened?  Hux’s blood sprayed Ben’s face, reflecting like the light of molten rock and plumes of magma to burn in his eyes –

Ben, uncontrollable, livid and wounded and abandoned, throwing open the door the medic had come through, barreling into the room, screaming for them all to leave –

Ben, smashing that door open with force, ice and power and majestic, and freezing all of them, picking her up, ignoring the others, taking her away –

Ben, burning hot with the heart of a volcano, kneeling at her bedside, the rage pooling out, grasping at her hands, her throat, Rose and Poe and Finn and Leia trying to reason with him, but he consumes her, his fingers in her hair, his mouth hot and forceful –

She is screaming.

She knows she is screaming as the past and future and present fragment in impossible or probable pieces around her, within her.

She knows Rose and Finn have caught her and brought her to collapse on the bed.  But she can’t hear them past the screams, the inferno roaring in her ears.

“Control yourself, Solo!”

“Can’t you see I’m trying, Torkana?”

Their voices are here.

Ben is here.

Ben, heartbroken and destruction reflected in his eyes, the afterimage of kyber light and ruin.

“You’re hurting her!”

She clawed out at Annju, trying to find him, wrapping around the other woman’s moonlight but everything around her was lashing pain, the bed, the sheets, every nook and cranny and instrument and sheet of metal of the Supremacy, blinding her to the flesh and blood she knew was just out of reach –

Ben’s pain.

Annju grabbed for her, her mind sinking through the sea of darkness and lava to embrace Rey in warmth –

“Solo!” Annju’s voice was tight and loud with the pain, echoing harshly in her ears.

Her body snapped like a taunt bowcaster string and then darkness.

She started coming back to herself slowly, and not in sleep.  She was awake.

And the air tingled with power.

From below her, she felt the Temple’s nexus roar through her veins, and she was answering, it cleansed the pain, she was awake and alive and –

Something caught around her, though how that was possible she did not know – she was a luminous being.  She flexed, drew more power from the nexus, but it was retreating, not quite as close suddenly.  But she was free again, luminous and bright.

She had to get to the Temple.

Was she awake?

She was.

She blinked. She was also soaring through the air in a swan dive, Coruscant glittering like an oasis at noon.  Falling.

Her first thought was to panic, and she gasped, turning over in the air so that she was spreadeagled, looking directly at the spires of the massive metropolis as they rushed toward her.

Her second was incredulous, then of course.  Of course, the Temple, Palpatine’s old palace, was below her.

And there were streams of traffic to dodge.

She took a deep breath, and reached out, not sure – there had been so much pain –

The Temple roared through her like a tar spout in the desert, boiling and strong and rushing with heat.

She couldn’t help it, she let out an involuntary whoop, kriffing suns it was good to feel that from something other than Ben.

She refocused quickly, began to weave through the cross traffic, rolling and zagging, and it felt like she was flying, in control.  She wasn’t sure where he was.  But he couldn’t have missed her diving off his ship.

Once she’d passed a significant portion of the obstructions, she flipped over, and the Supremacy was far above.

The Silencer was much closer.

She turned again in midair, catching the shocked eye of a pilot in a speeder for just a millisecond, adjusted her angle, and she was flipping onto the Silencer, clinging onto it for dear life as it slowed its descent to the surface.

The nexus was drowning her, so she couldn’t immediately feel him.

What would he feel like now that she had become this person who chased after simulacrums and Sith shrines and left him behind?

What would he feel like now that she had caused him uncontrollable pain?

She shivered, the pain that had knocked her out only a memory, just like his words that had come to her in her ocean. 

Startling, suddenly rushing back to her.  Had he said them?  He’d been in pain, but he hadn’t sounded – lost.  At least, not lost to her.

I love you.

I’ll take anything you’ll give me.

The hissing of the landing gear engaged as she turned the words over in her mind and they were before the colossal structure, set apart and silent, powerful.  Not dark or light – just alive.  Strong.

A bit disconcerting.  She channeled her unease by dismounting from the undercarriage in a death-defying flip that not only felt natural, but was almost like a stretch – easy, comfortable. Preparation.

Touching the same earth as the nexus was a rush she’d felt scarce times before – maybe the first time Ben had pinned her on the Silencer, or when he’d knelt before her, or given her the japor snippet.  The first time she’d seen him.  She was delirious with it for a moment, her head thrown back, before the memories ground against each other inside her and her breath caught.

Please come back to me. 

She had.  But she’d still left.  She’d still hurt him, and the wound was fresh.  She’d felt it, stars how she had felt it. 

She couldn’t feel him right now. 

She rose from her crouch, her heart in her throat.  It was twilight here on the surface, and the Temple was waiting for her.  There were many things that were bigger than them.

The weight of history.  The weight of a trillion lives.

She could feel their eyes – not all trillion, but some number of those she’d saved on this planet – now that she was adjusting to the power surging through her veins.  Did she feel it this way uniquely?  Had every Jedi felt more alive here?  More themselves.

There were historians, librarians, inside.  Knowledge to be obtained.  Space to be reclaimed.

And it was hers.

For the first time in her life, Rey understood what she was feeling and embraced it.

Like when she returned to her planet, her field.  When she saw Rose, smiling at her.  Felt Leia’s arms around her.  Finn, looking concerned and shocked.  Poe, even, his easy smile flashing.

Ben.  Just anything.  Near, far, smiling, fearful, angry, under her fingers.  Moments away, but so far from her grasp.  Anywhere she could feel him, see him.

Powerful.  Everything.  Home.

But not complete.  Because she knew she was here with him, but couldn’t feel him yet. 

She turned, some of her worry edging away because she wanted to share this with him.  Wanted him to feel this thrill of belonging.  Wanted everything to be ok – if he really would forgive her.  If he really wanted to offer everything. 

Now she knew she wanted it more than anything. 

The Silencer opened, pneumatics hissing quietly, feeling like an age to Rey. 

And the steam cleared as he stepped onto the same ground as her, and she staggered, because she was still weak and now she felt him in her bones, he blazed into her, fury hot and righteous and incredulous and – scared?  A little scared.  The echo of the pain subdued. 

He was faster than her – he caught her before she rightened herself, his hands at her elbows, scalding and glorious and he was here. 

They were here. 

All she felt was relief.  The darkness had been wrong.  It couldn’t take him from her. 

A finger of fear nudged at the base of her skull as she thought of the fury unleashed within the pain, the fragments of visions she’d seen – had any of it been true?  So much of it felt like deterred possibilities. 

Perhaps he had dove through space after the Knights of Ren.  But Annju would have stopped him from killing Hux in anger. 

And he was warm and bright beside her – the darkness had not claimed him. 

She sighed.  She wanted to collapse into him – she was weary, she had apparently dove out of a ship while convalescing, after all – and just rest her head against his broad chest, he was so warm and it was everything. 

His voice snapped her back to reality, reminding her of the eyes watching them.  “You should not have over exerted yourself, Master.”  Master.  She couldn’t collapse into his arms.  She had an appearance to maintain.  “I would have taken you to the surface.”

Each syllable was degrees colder than the warm leather gloving his hands, controlled and measured.  She took a shaky breath.  Straightened.  Met his eyes. 

Of course there was no ring of magma, no lava bubbling up through him into the dark pools.  He was still Ben.  And he was alive. 

Her own palms were on his arms, and she tightened her grip, not wanting to let go but her subconscious had decided on this public venue, she couldn’t simply tug him close like she wanted to.  Even if with him beside her and the Temple coursing through her, she had never felt more at home in her own skin, had never felt this kind of strength and peace.

He didn’t seem to be at peace.  His next intake of breath was quick and pained as he stared at her, intense and burning and the grip of his fingers was just as tight as hers.  His breath was slightly uneven.

She’d scared him – sleepwalking off his ship.  Diving into the atmosphere.

Fair.  She’d nearly scared herself. 

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” she said, and she could have been speaking about so many things, she felt compelled to add, “I would have asked you if I’d known I had a destination.”

His lips twitched at that, and his grip loosened slightly.  She straightened, but found that she could not let go.  Three heartbeats.  Six.

“Are you well?” he asked, the words careful, too careful. 

She frowned.  “I am now.”

The line of his shoulders sagged slightly.  “I’m not hurting you?”

This tore a laugh from her, it was ragged and breathless.  “You, hurting me?  Of course not.”

His brow furrowed.  “You passed out when I returned.”

“Because of pain I caused,” she said sharply.  She was under no delusion that this was not her fault. 

“No,” his hands tightened again and she was mapping out every beauty mark on his face, the contour of his cheekbones, the width of his shoulders, because he was still here and it was everything.  “No,” he said again, jarring her slightly and she snapped her attention back to his eyes.  “I could not control my anger.  That is not your fault.”

“Ben, I felt it,” she had to clear her throat because her voice was still a bit rusty, and the memory was raw.  “The pain and fear.”  The past and future a kaleidoscope in his rage.

His jaw worked.  “You know that I was livid when you left.  But I shouldn’t have been.”

She didn’t understand.

He felt her confusion and continued, “You were just doing what was best – for us, for the Resistance, for Coruscant, the lives you sought to save.  I shouldn’t have been angry.  By the time you’d reached Endor, my fury had cooled." 

“So you do forgive me,” she whispered, echoing the words she’d said to him in the throne room, a million life time ago. 

“There was nothing to forgive,” and he meant it.  Of course he did – he hadn’t been angry in the throne room in her waking dream, she had felt none of his ire directed at her when she saw him in the amphitheater.  But.  He was still angry.  He was still in pain. 

His expression darkened.  “And then you had to jump in front of a particle beam like an absolute lunatic and the fury roared back to life, threatening to consume me.  Fear is an old friend, but I hadn’t been so afraid since I brought you to Snoke.  It felt like the universe had caught on fire and every living thing had stopped breathing.”  He stopped himself, closed his eyes, and she was riveted, could scarcely breathe.  His voice was more than raspy, it was graveled and near-broken.  “I wasn’t sure you would wake up.”

Fragments of his pain and rage were seeping into her and she could barely stay upright, it was so much and she didn’t want this for him, had never wanted to cause him pain –

His gloved thumb wiped a tear she hadn’t known she’d shed from her cheek, and he said softly, “I was out of control when I returned to the Supremacy.  I didn’t know you were awake and I let my fear blind me.  I’m sorry.”

She was struggling to control her breathing, as he was attempting to control his bleeding feelings.  And though she was sorry that this had hurt him, she – “I can’t apologize for who I am.  But I am sorry I hurt you,” she blurted out without thinking, without even being sure of what she meant. 

“You would not have hurt me if I was stronger,” his voice was still steady, and he was sure and solid and sincere.  “I know who you are.  I know the lengths you will go.  Part of me wants to shake you and make you promise that you’ll never do something so asinine again, but the rest of me knows that I can’t stop you from being a Jedi.  From being a protector.”

“Thank you,” she wasn’t crying anymore, but she was still overwhelmed.  Ben had grown so much.  She hadn’t given him enough credit.  “And thank you for holding me when I would have fallen from the sky.  I called for you, and you answered.”

“I always will.”  His gaze was shuttering, and she wasn’t sure why, some of his thoughts were harder to discern with the nexus so loud – even with him beneath her fingertips.  He was doing a good job of blocking his emotions.  Of hiding from her, it felt so different than the promise on his lips. 

She released her hold on his shoulders, and he let her go.  She took a step away from him, with effort, still transfixed by the coals of his eyes. 

She felt that there was more to be said, but she didn’t know where to start. 

Where he had?  “Are you well?” she asked softly. 

He had the audacity to smile at her, still a bit pained but positively blinding to her nonetheless.  “I’m still recovering from the most recent heart attack you’ve inflicted on me, plummeting from my ship.  Maybe once I can hold you without a thousand eyes prying.”

“I’d like that,” she whispered, tried to swallow. 

He hadn’t quite been able to hide that consternation she had never been able to unravel.  It chafed and tugged and made it hard to take another step away from him.  “I’ll take what I can get,” he rumbled, and she had to look away, had to take that step away from both the promise and the pain in that statement. 

She started for the Temple, Ben falling into his place at her shoulder, churning and rippling with pain and need and anger despite what he’d told her.  But it was softer.  It was tighter and better for the words he’d said.  She thought his honesty had only assuaged some of the fear – he really was still working through how he’d felt as he watched her fall through the sky. 

It tore free a memory of her, etched in light, broken glass reflecting in rainbows the laser and Ben was roaring in pain and might, tearing her back to him –

“You never came here?” she said abruptly.

“No.”  He sounded wry.  “Let the past die.”

Notes:

My plan for the end of this fic changed several times due to writers block and a bit of a personal crisis. All good now, and very excited to bring the end of this to all of you. Hope you are all safe and well - it is always darkest before dawn (and God it has been dark but vaccines! I can see the rays of sun).

Chapter 24: I'll Figure It Out

An acolyte hurried out of the Temple.  Welcomed them, startling Rey from her concentration on his maelstrom.  She let him handle the answers, his immersion in politics over the past year paying off.  He was clipped but not unkind, noting that she wanted to see the archives.

The past was already overwhelming her.  Perhaps she only wanted to see that.

She was aware of the acolyte eyeing her strangely as she brushed her fingers across innocuous surfaces as they walked in, seeing ghosts instead of the woman’s face.

So many ghosts.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Anakin, younger than he’d ever been when she had spoke to him, his hair short, a braid on his shoulder.  She shook him away – don’t say that, Master – just in time for the acolyte to blurt out, “The Church of the Force is at your disposal, Master.”

She blinked. “That’s who maintains the Temple?”

“The First Order ignored us,” she murmured, bowing. “When it was just the handful of us.”

“There is more now?”

And the present shifted forward, there were more souls here than she had expected, she supposed.

“And the Temple is secure?” he said sharply over her shoulder.

She tuned out the security talk, appreciative of his tactical mind, but drawn suddenly into a side chamber, where –

Suddenly the night sky was all around them, and Rey had pulled a tiny orb from beneath the cracked floor, the universe was beautiful, and she could trail her fingers from Jakku to Naboo, to –

“Tatooine,” she said aloud, and she realized that there was the silence of a tomb around her.

The acolyte was with at least two others at the door who were older, looked more composed than the shaking young woman, though the new man and woman still looked a shocked pale, and Ben’s knuckles were just as white, clenched around his fingers as he stood a few feet behind her, and she got the distinct impression that he was restraining himself more than usual.

She cocked her head at him, feeling the echo of fear.  Everything is alright.  We are here.  Together.

The grip eased slightly, and his eyes burned as he shifted, with effort, moving to block her from their gaze.  “Master Skywalker will inspect the Temple over the next hour,” he told the man and woman.  “You will accommodate her?”

She was back to staring at the desert system she’d picked, unfocused, trying to discern what had drawn her here, what did she know about it?

Nothing.

It meant something to him. 

She heard the others agree with him that they would guide the inspection and absent mindedly called the tiny black orb to her, the universe swallowed into its depths.  The older man and woman had gathered their composure by the time she drifted back towards them but they were unable to meet her gaze.  Ben crowded closer than he usually would, a hairsbreadth behind her, lancing sharp questions about safety and preservation methods at the caretakers as they led them through the archive, through vast wings that were dusty and disused. 

This place would require more patience and attention than she had to give.  Finn, Rose?  Not Annju – she was too good of a teacher.  Perhaps Corran Horn.

Ben was suddenly tense beside her, or at least more tense than before, and she looked up at him, having lost the thread of the conversation.  He shook his head, but his gaze was narrowed and his jaw was clenched. 

They had just passed a set of massive metal doors, and she stopped and stared at them, feeling a sudden déjà vu. 

“What is in this wing?” she asked, her fingers flexing with an odd note that strung through her from the very stones of this place.

Silence. 

She turned from studying the doors, and saw only fear reflected back at her, not just from the acolyte, but from the two older initiates and the small crowd they had gathered, a few more initiates and acolytes.  “That is a place no one goes, Master Skywalker,” the acolyte whispered. 

She strode back to place her palms against the vault – for that must be what it was – and thought, this is not so bad.  It will not be Endor. 

“Supreme Leader,” she said, stepping back and she felt rather than saw the awe that was rippling behind her, and she couldn’t look at them.  Couldn’t dwell on what these people thought of her.  Thought of him?

She took a steadying breath as he resumed his place at her shoulder.  The tension had not left him, he worked his jaw before answering, “Yes, Master.”

She turned her head to meet his gaze, and she could tell some of the tension was born of the fear that he had brought with him here, that had not quite subsided.  She considered him, considered her own strength – which was considerably less than usual – in fact, walking through the Temple had made her legs sore – considered that she did not know what had happened to him on the ocean moon of Endor.  The words still came from her lips, “We will cleanse this place.”

He was rigid in parade rest, coiled like a spring.  War within him.  He wished to prove himself.  But he feared the darkness.  Now?

She took a deep breath, certain.

“Open the doors.”

He did, his stance shifting as he reached out his hand, curling his fingers up as the screech of broken metal across the floor echoed down the hall. 

He cracked the entrance wide enough for them to enter the chamber and quickly slammed the doors shut behind them. 

Nothing stirred. 

She had only taken two steps into the room, and when he took a third, she murmured, “Stay where you are.”

He did, and although his lightsaber was in his hand, he did not ignite it.  She waited as his eyes darted around the chamber, as the air settled.  His jaw was still clenched, but the line of his shoulders eased slightly as he appeared to determine that they were safe, for the moment. 

But he did not meet her gaze.  He was just a step too far from her, but this place crawled with danger, so perhaps the space was necessary.  She swallowed, wishing that the Temple was not so strong, that it did not dull their bond so. 

She took a deep breath.  Recentered.  She was here with him, and he needed her. 

“Your control has much improved,” she told him.  His eyes snapped to her, and they burned like embers.  She was an ocean, and below the waves the current was swift and sure.  “I know there is turmoil within you.  But you must lay it aside to face this darkness.  And you will.”

His lips were parted and she had to dive back below the waves to stop that line of thought.  The maelstrom was eddying now, and he had brought the storm to heel.  He murmured, “Thank you, Master.”

She inhaled, the honorific falling naturally into the severity of the conversation. “First, tell me what happened in the Endor system.”

His eyebrows drew together and he visibly collected himself before he told her, “I did not defeat the simulacrum, if that is what you are asking.”

“Just tell me what happened.”

His left hand clenched at his side, and she saw and felt the strain winding through him, as he ran his tongue along his teeth.  She waited.

“After I destroyed the remnants of the Knights of Ren – ”

Ben, sailing through the wide expanse of space at the smoking ship –

“ – Torkana and Horn had followed me.  They helped.  And Torkana told me I could not go after Hux alone.  That we would go with a fleet.  I would have been able to escape if the Silencer wasn’t in the Outer Rim, but as it were, I had to wait. 

“He set a trap.  We knew what it was, and I had seen the simulacrum, but I did not realize his desperation to open that vault.  We walked right into it.”

Ben, screaming, the blood flying through the air –

“Did you kill him?”

His brow furrowed, and his voice was low and sharp.  “What?”

She swallowed, because his tone was fire and smoke and ash and danger, rising from the calming storm.  “I saw his death.  At your hand.  Did it happen?”

He was leaning toward her, almost within reach, but they both knew the danger of a wrong step here and he did not come closer.  He brought his fist up in front of his chest, a deep breath rattling through him, filled with pain and longing.  “Do you doubt me?”

The words knifed through her, reminding her – I know you don’t need me – he’d told her, he’d said it more than once and she hadn’t immediately refuted it, had almost thought it was a part of their game.  Had missed it for what it was.

“Many a Jedi has killed those who have fallen to the Dark Side of the Force,” she said, carefully, but she knew instinctually that she was treading on even more dangerous ground.  “I do not ask because I doubt you.  I do not doubt you.  Not anymore.”

He grit his teeth, and she felt him struggle as he lost some of his control and growled, “Do you know how much I hide from you?  Do you know how close I’ve been – to hurting you, or your friends?  Sometimes I still see red and I have to do everything in my power to remind myself that I am not that thing in the darkness, and that I don’t have to be.  But maybe a part of me will never be able to shake free.”

“But you haven’t hurt me, or any of them,” she breathed.  “You’ve grown.  You’ve learned control.  You have chosen not to hurt people.  You have chosen to be a being of light.”  Her fingers wrapped around the japor snippet, for comfort, and he zeroed in on it, his lips curled.  She swallowed.  “That choice is what makes you Ben Solo.”

His anger was rising, and he was shaking, and he took a perilous step closer to her, reached out with his impossibly long arm to splay his massive fingers across her cheekbone.  And for a moment, he let her in, completely in, and she felt and heard what she’d caught for moments before – voracious hunger and anger and darkness – my star and sky, nothing could stop me from taking her, I will devour her and ruin her for any other – but it was tempered by the flood of hope and light and love that existed within him – I’m the one she wants beneath her, the universe will see that I am the only one allowed to touch her – possession and desire and flame, but nothing she had not felt before.

Nothing that did not make her gasp, and her muscles tighten, and she could feel her desire pooling and wet, and she needed to focus. 

The world was shifting around them, shaking from his fateful step.

He’d drawn her near as she tried to collect herself, moving to bury his hand in her hair and she heard him inhale by her ear, shakily, and he was so warm and hard and close, burning her in the might of a star.  She knew, as lightning crackled and metal shifted beneath her feet, that she barely had time.  But she grabbed his collar and tugged him down slightly so that she could press a kiss into the hollow of his neck.  He made a breathless sound, shocked, and she swirled her tongue and sucked, tasting salt and him and she needed to stop –

She pulled back as she heard him breathe out a small moan, and he looked dazed, he was looking at her in wonder when she drew back.  “You can’t scare me,” she said simply.  “I wasn’t afraid of you.”  Her fingers smoothed along the lines of his uniform at his collarbone, aware that they had precious few moments left.  “Did you kill him?”

“No,” he swallowed.  “Annju stopped me.  And Horn finished off the simulacrum.”

“But you fought them.  And you did not break.”

“I was weak,” he told her, his gaze hot and pained, and his fingers were still tight in her hair and she wished they were anywhere but here. 

She said softly, “No.  You are strong.  Strong enough to face him alone.”

His features twisted in a scowl.  “What?”

Then the laughter shivered through the air and Ben spun her behind him as he ignited his lightsaber.  She murmured.  “I am still quite weak.  But I will be here if you need me.  Set aside your pain and rage.  Focus on the task at hand.”

His shoulders heaved.  “I will do as you ask.”

“Ben,” she said softly to the back of his neck.  “I trust you.”

He straightened, squaring off suddenly, and she felt her words had a desired effect as some measure of confidence flooded his stance.  “Thank you, Master,” he gritted out.  “I’ll take care of this for you.” 

She dropped into meditation, letting the Temple take her where it willed, careful not to sink too deep as she was still so weak and the nexus was so strong, gone for a few minutes as she spun through the guardians of the Temple, their preservation, the representative they’d sent to the convention.  Then she was back at the convention, and she saw things she had forgotten were to be discussed.

An election for Prime Minister of the Republic.  Ben was stepping down. 

Of course.

Kriffing sands, she was proud of him. 

She came back, thought about what had happened outside the Temple, picked through their conversation, his lasting consternation a sour note in the river of peace and calm trying to soothe her. 

He’d felt that the universe should see that she had chosen him.  But the universe could see that. 

But he’d also said, “I’ll take what I can get.”

Rose had said once, maybe he didn’t understand why they had to hide.  Or maybe it was hard for him, hiding what they had away.  Maybe it was.  As she thought about it, she knew he often craved recognition, craved the power and possession he needed to be lived for all to see.  She’d never really felt these things, didn’t feel this as he did, and she was sure it had something to do with growing up in shadows – in falling neglected to the Dark Side.  She felt a pang.

Her intention hadn’t been to hide him, it had been to protect herself, and him.  To protect them from outside forces that could tear them apart.  But, if she had learned anything from Endor, from facing Hux, they were stronger together.  She was afraid of losing him, she was afraid of hurting him, but she loved him, and she wasn’t afraid for the world to see.

She’d have to show him, she thought.  He wouldn’t believe her otherwise.  He didn’t think that he was enough.  But he was.  He’d promised her a life.  Together.  Their bed.  Their work, restoring the Order.

Of course she wanted him, all of him, not just a looming presence at her shoulder and an occasional snatch of skin in the shadows.  She wanted all of it, more than anything. 

She had to show him.

She was still meditating, wondering at how to start and he called to her, a little help?

She leapt to her feet and forced her sore legs into a sprint into the chamber – which was yet another throne room, unreal, a ghost of a moment captured in time –and spun behind the simulacrum, dodging lightning as she went.  Ben had him on the ropes, but now she could feel his exhaustion, he was still fighting on two fronts.  Against the piece of him that still responded to the Dark Lord of the Sith’s call, and the simulacrum itself. 

It was the work of a moment to use Ben as a distraction and deal a killing blow from above – the world stuttered and broke around them, she fell from the ledge she’d landed on and the room was empty and echoing and just her and Ben, towering, glowering above her. 

She raised herself to her elbows, her body screaming its displeasure at her, but unable to hide a grin as she looked up at him, chaos and control and beauty and disaster.  Everything. 

“Good work, padawan,” she couldn’t keep a smirk out of her voice.  “You almost had him.  We’ll try the simulacrum in the Jedi vessel next.”

He groaned and wiped sweat from his forehead, vehemence coiling through him, not looking at her.  “I failed.”

“You are too hard on yourself.  Asking for help is a sign of strength, not weakness.”

He considered her carefully then, clipped his lightsaber back on his belt and strode over to her, his long legs eating up the length of the chamber effortlessly.  “You look . . . pleased.”

“I am.”

“With me?”

“Yes,” she breathed, her heart stuttering as he nudged her legs apart and dropped to his knees.  The world was just him and her, and it was gold and warm and they were alive.

“I like that,” he growled, one gloved hand landing on her ankle.  “I like pleasing you.” 

“I just like you,” she sighed, blinking up at him, his aquiline nose, his long lashes, the beauty marks and dark hair and broad shoulders that made her think about him pinning her down, fucking her hard and without abandon. 

His grip tightened on her ankle, and she could tell by the rise and fall of his chest that at least part of her thought had bled between them, that this heat within her could not be contained.  She wanted to burn in the might of this sun again, and again, and again.  She wanted to be consumed by and to consume Ben, every moment that she was given until they had none left.  She tilted her head back and opened her mouth to gasp air, certain for that moment that she would be breathing fire. 

His eyes were branding her in the unknown, but there was a pounding on the door.  Beyond them, the small crowd was becoming frantic. 

He groaned, his head falling forward to his chest, the heat still echoing between them, and something like resignation, frustration.  “You are needed, my Lady, and not just by me.”  He looked back up at her, through his hair, his eyelashes, and her heart was still not beating right.  “Though I am selfish and I cannot stop thinking of how you taste.” 

She was choking on desert heat and flame, and a twisted moan echoed from her parched throat. 

A wicked glint came to his gaze and he growled, “How you’ll buck against my tongue, begging for more.  Because you are just as greedy as me.  And you love how I please you.”  He had leaned in, getting closer and burning her with his heat and the promise of his words, sliding up her body as he whispered these syllables etched in flame.  His palm glided up her leg, up to the junction of her things, just resting against her like a promise.  He caught up her hand and pushed her back against the ground, twining their fingers against the cold floor of the chamber.  She shifted, with a thought to get closer, and she could barely move against him, he was so immense, just pounds of chiseled muscle all scorching her, weighing on her, and she couldn’t stop a second small moan, good, he felt so good against her.  “You love how I can overwhelm you,” he breathed, his eyes transfixing her, and she could only gasp.  “How I could make you come, right here, and I’d have to muffle your scream.”

“Kriffing hells,” she breathed, her thoughts scattered and wide.  “You’re unraveling me.”

He shifted against her as his lips quirked and he brought her fingers to his mouth – or tried to.  He stopped moving when she let out another involuntary sound – this one of pain. 

He was so still that he was almost vibrating with tension.  “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she murmured, almost afraid to move herself.  “I’m just very sore and exhausted.  I dove off a ship twice after all.” 

With effort, she began to push herself off the floor, and was surprised when he moved off her in an uncanny whirl and spun her gently to her feet with the same breath of air.  She reached out to catch herself and his hand was in hers again, his fingers huge and steady and clasped securely against her in a way that screamed something she still couldn’t hear.  She tightened her grip when she thought he might move away. 

He settled her to her feet, and her attention was still fixated on his grip, maybe contributing to her legs’ lack of preparedness for her weight, but she thought not, as she collapsed into his side, as he hissed as she’d touched him.  “Sorry,” she gasped, the fire still raging, edged and oppressive. 

He was burning for her, and she clutched into his uniform with her other hand, the fabric rough and grounding and coarse and something she could focus on beneath her fingers, to think past the smoke of their desire and the pain also clouding her senses.  He was in pain, torn, wanting to devour her or carry back to the Silencer, neither of which were options at the moment, and he was guilty for not being able to control the inferno, for the fall he’d just seen, even if it was just from a ledge, his heart had lodged in his throat for that moment, and then there was shattered glass, and a howling wind, and –

She gasped, pulling back from his side and away from his memory of that trauma, of the moment she’d chosen to conduct kyber like a refractor but his hand was still in hers and she tugged on it, stumbled a moment before she was able to steady herself.  He let go as if he were burned. 

She closed her eyes for two breaths as she sank into the well of the nexus, the living Force crowding her in its vibrancy and she exhaled, blinking.  Moved toward the door. 

It moved as she had known it would and she was having enough trouble managing putting one foot in front of another, so she did not speak when the acolyte tried to catch at her elbow.  Ben rumbled, “Master Skywalker has cleansed the Temple.”

She heard their joy and thanks and grateful humming, heard them all as they sought to press closer to her before he took up his spot at her shoulder and there was suddenly some space and silence around her.  “No,” she murmured, and she turned, looking up into his impassive dark eyes.  “I cannot take all the credit.  The Supreme Leader handled the matter himself.”

She offered her hand, daring him, and he caught it, a reflex, right before his chest, his brow furrowing as she raised their joined hands higher, as the world seemed to stand still among the living and dead of this place, and he bent his head, his eyes never leaving hers, and was she even breathing?  She was waiting.  She was drowning in this need, she was aflame when his lips brushed her knuckles and for a moment it was just her and Ben before the Temple and stars. 

He let go as quickly as he had in the throne room, and bowed, too low, and murmured, “You flatter me, Master.”

People were breathing around them again, murmuring, but their thoughts and feelings were far louder than any words.  She was lost for a moment in the tide of hope and incredulity and shock until one of the acolytes asked them if they wished to see the remnants of the Trials chambers, causing Rey to tear her gaze from him and politely decline, they had to leave.  She was settling further into her bones now, more relaxed but that only highlighting the soreness and the pain in her battered body.  It was strange.  The crowd was buoying her, was too close for Ben’s comfort.  He was dark and unreadable again, and suddenly . . .

He was behind her the whole walk out, at times reaching out carefully to guide her, his fingers ghosting at the small of her back, once steadying her around a corner. 

She caught his jaw working when that happened, and she realized that he felt jealous.

“So what do you know about Tatooine?” she said softly, in an effort to distract him.

He hadn’t moved his hand as they cleared the corner, and his fingers curled suddenly around her side, squeezed.  Made her breath hitch.  Caught her next to him, as he looked down at her, and he just held her there for a moment, and she tried to parse through the envy flaring through him, couldn’t, couldn’t and she was tired and just wanted to sink into him and sleep.  She leaned into him a bit, wanting to know what had caused this flash of possessive intent.

His fingers flexed, and his arm was a warm and welcome weight.  He nodded, seemingly satisfied, but she wasn’t and didn’t know if that was an answer to her question?  And he didn’t let go, just propelled her past the initiates, whom he brushed off easily.  She caught one of the men staring. 

“You’re going to pass out as soon as we get into the Silencer, aren’t you?” he interrupted her puzzlement, a hint of mirth edging his voice.

“Yes,” she agreed, trying not to lean on him – she had a reputation to maintain, and she was not weak.  She was capable of walking fifty feet without help.  Probably.

“I’d rather you got some sleep before you give me another heart attack.”

“What do you mean?”

His voice turned dark.  “You’ll see.”

Chapter 25: Our World On Fire

The sand was so hot that she pulled back from its touch.  And shielded her eyes, to better see the man dismounting from the speeder bike, holding a bundle.

There was death here.

Rey opened her eyes. 

There was no death here, she realized, as she blinked up at the beige ceiling.  Wherever she was, it was doing its best to mimic her quarters on her planet.  The rock plating the ceiling looked the same, felt the same.  She could have hewn it herself. 

But she was in a massive bed.  Soft and glorious and she could fall right through.

And in some sort of tangled and flimsy piece of clothing.  She felt it as she shifted under the soft covers and the silky material rubbed against her.  She stretched slightly, yawning, cataloguing that much of her soreness was gone and that she must have slept for a long time.  She thought she was almost back to full strength. 

Despite the comforts around her, the dream had lodged like grains of sand, irritating and grinding in her mind’s eye.  She turned to see—

Not the Silencer.

The air was knocked out of her lungs she was so surprised.  Though the rock from the (her?) quarry had already gave that away.  She was in a lavish apartment in the upper echelons of Coruscant, the massive bed chamber open to floor to ceiling windows, a sprawling terrace branching out into the sky at the corner of the room.  The myriad lights of skyscrapers and speeders twinkled back at her. 

Everything was elegant and understated and gorgeous.  The dark colors of a desert at night, with splashes of a crimson sun. 

And there was a fountain on the terrace.

She couldn’t breathe for a moment.

Then she collected her wits because the dream was still banging around her temples and called up Tatooine on the holopad that had been left on the bedside table. 

Tatooine.

She couldn’t hear anything but the falling water on the terrace as the holopad dropped from her nerveless fingers. 

Oh.

Oh.

She clutched at the japor snippet then, and she saw:

A woman, wearing a metallic blue outfit, waiting for a man, younger, barely recognizable in his grief. 

Anakin Skywalker. 

His palpable fury at the others that waited with the woman.

Was there death here?

Rey took a steadying breath as she let go of the pendant and threw back the comforter. 

Ri’ia, she had been blind.  What he had given her.  Darkness and hope.  

She padded barefoot to the ’fresher which was thankfully right where she thought it would be but also luxurious and with its own floor to ceiling window that had to be tinted and a massive basin sunk into the floor.  She felt strange putting the silk garment back on after washing up, but she didn’t know where or if she had clothes here.  The material felt cool against her skin, and made her feel like for a moment she belonged in this outrageous apartment.  Her reflection stared back at her in a long mirror – her hair loose over a plunging neckline, barely there straps, even a string of pearls against the black material. 

She wandered to the terrace, her fingers trailing through the fountain, his presence a ripple at the end of her consciousness. 

He must be working.  She imagined there would be many details to be worked out, with the election for Prime Minister. 

Leia was the obvious choice.  And she must have plans for Ben, perhaps something with the military, a de-escalation strategy. 

This made her heart stop and her chest tighten for a moment, because . . . because what would they do?  The last couple of weeks were not normal, nor replicable, nor should they be.  He had spent too much time with her on her planet, and then they had spent too much time apart.  But how would they spend time together?  She didn’t particularly fancy staying here, at least not all of the time.  Coruscant was still too vast, too noisy and suffocating and metal and with barely a sun.  Not one that could sustain her long term.  And barely an ocean.  Not one that could satisfy her. 

Still.  The Temple was quiet.  In its own vast way.  And unfathomable.  A place she wanted to delve into deeply, and even here, now, she could feel its echo, and the sun hit just so against the glass skyscrapers – she wandered to the edge of the terrace, noticed the Silencer on another ledge nearby – this was incredible.  Nothing like home.  But it could be. 

But her planet had become home.  It was hot enough for her, and gorgeous and green, and the lakes and mountains were hers.  Or she thought they were.  And she’d helped build that place.  And it was safe. 

Ben would need to be here at times, and wherever the military wanted him at others.  And she didn’t see herself following him around the galaxy, that wasn’t a solution.  Maybe she shouldn’t.  The whole master-apprentice relationship was more for show than anything – even if she felt as though she was teaching him, to control his temper.  Even though she was guiding him through this newer world of being Ben Solo.  She didn’t need to be his master to do that.  He’d have to formally take the trials, but he could do that soon. 

And then?

Her hazy decision to have him kiss her hand in front of all those people had been a step in the direction she’d decided on, showing him that he had nothing to fear.  That she was his, that she wanted him, in any and every way.  That her love was unshakable and vast as an ocean.  And he’d leaned into it, hadn’t he?  He’d guided her back through the Temple.  But he’d been so jealous . . . and angry.

Had she misread him?

She absent-mindedly climbed and jumped to the Silencer, just to see if maybe her cloak was there.  Or at least the dress she’d loved so much.  But while it opened at her command, none of her things remained.  He must have moved them to some unknowable place in the apartment. 

Which was a quandary in and of itself.

He’d mentioned it once, but had he seen the fountain in her thoughts?

She was genuinely perplexed.  Where was she?

She landed softly back next to the fountain, her mind still spinning, so she was startled when –

“I knew you’d give me another heart attack.”

She felt frozen, her gaze was still locked on the water that she’d cupped for a drink.  She swallowed, and his voice was so sharp that she carefully widened her focus, he was poignant and wretched and afraid and alive and hopeful.  Such a writhing mass of contradictions. 

“Did I?” she said softly, almost to the fountain. 

“You were gone.  And then tumbled onto the terrace like you were merely practicing on your bridge.”

“I’m sorry for making you worry,” she was still speaking to the falling water, she was sinking into it, because for now, she hadn’t quite finished sorting out where they were, where they could be.  Maybe she needed his input before she started spinning in circles. 

There was a beat of silence, and she wrapped her hand around the japor snippet, just for a hit of warmth. 

She turned to see him then, in that silence, and her breath caught.  He was looming just inside the entrance to the terrace, wearing his crimson-lined cloak and uniform, his massive hands encased in black leather gloves, and she’d seen him like this before, but the look on his face—he looked both dazed and hungry.  Smitten.

She felt self-conscious for a moment and she glanced down to smooth her nightgown as she started toward him, almost involuntarily, just the magnetism between them, the warmth of his star was too much and she needed to be closer.  She was still feeling echoes of depletion, despite her body feeling more rested, not nearly as sore, and he was a deep well of power, a source of heat and power and might. 

She stopped a few feet from him, his eyes had not wavered and his hands had curled into fists on his thighs.  She tilted her head slightly, trying to gauge his mood.  “You did,” he said roughly.  “I thought you’d left me, for a moment.”

Heat was rising in her throat, stars he thought that?  He thought she’d just leave, not a care in the world.  What he must think of her.  “Not in this,” she whipped back, the sarcasm easy and hiding the hot feeling now rising to the backs of her eyes.

He ducked his head slightly the hunger rising and twisting his lips.  “You don’t like it?”

“It’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

“Not for my empress,” he rumbled and she was getting whiplash because he held her so high but also thought she cared nothing for him?  Is that what he thought?  “I told you I would give you anything.  And I must say, you are radiant.”

His proximity was affecting her, despite the jarring discord in her chest.  Would he not believe her?  If she told him, just blurted it out?

She couldn’t, even if she wanted to.  Her throat wouldn’t move and she was feeling flush with the compliment he’d given her, heat spreading through her veins, and she raised a hand to press against the pearls at the straps of the shift, as his words burrowed into her.

I would give you anything.

“Only because I am near you,” she breathed, meaning it, wanting him, wanting him to see, they were both so kriffing blind -

In that half a breath he moved instantaneously across the terrace to trap her against the windows, and they were both breathing hard, his hips pinning hers, one of his huge hands splayed across her ribcage, the other loosely curled around the column of her throat.  “And when I’m near you, I turn into an animal,” he breathed against her neck, his tongue rasping against her skin and she shuddered, her palms against the glass.  “But I’m helpless before you.  You have me in the palm of your hand.  Threaten me, control me, use me, I’m yours.”

Use me. . .

She shivered, thinking of him in chains, or ropes binding his wrists, of how she’d torment him -

His breath hitched, and she bit out, in an effort to distract him, “If you are mine, you’ll give me what I want.”

He tensed and for half a second she was worried, she was tense - and then he was spinning her, hoisting her up, and he was growling, “I’ll always give you what you want, my dear.  Tell me.”

She knew he knew.  But she had such trouble voicing her own feelings, desires, she needed practice.  She inhaled, struck for a moment by him, he’d drawn back and his gaze was piercing, his hands spayed at her waist.  She’d settled her arms on his shoulders when he spun her, and she used one hand to stroke her thumb across his cheekbone, causing a sharp inhale.  She squeezed her thighs experimentally at his hips and his breath stuttered again, one hand coming up to splay across her collarbones.  “Tell me,” he hissed.  “I want to hear you say it.”

“I want your mouth on me,” she said, as steady as she could.  “I want to come on your tongue.”

His eyes were burning, and his fierce satisfaction flowed through her as he leaned in, breaking eye contact to kiss her jaw, to whisper, “You want my tongue?”

“Yes,” she drifted for a moment as his tongue flicked over the shell of her ear.  Then – “Shouldn’t we go inside?”

He laughed, what a noise, and it shook her, body and spirit, their bond roaring with his pleasure, stabbing her through.  “No,” he rasped.  “I’ll have you right here.”

“But – ” a sudden thrill went through her.  A city of windows and eyes.  Nerves prickled, but gods she wanted this, she wanted him –

“No one knows we are here,” he told her, stilling some of the nerves.  “And who would dare cross you, my lady.”  He pressed a more insistent kiss to her nape, one that made her gasp and curl her fingers through his hair.  “My sun and stars.”  He moved over the fabric of her dress, his thumb flicking a nipple right before he closed his mouth over it, getting the material and her wet.  “My warrior,” and she was awash with his need and hers, so hot and thick, her breath was sharp as he worked over her other nipple, his hand massaging her breast and she tried to shift against him, needing friction, but he had her pinned and he laughed again, “My greedy scavenger.”

“Ben,” she gasped, hoping to get him moving, her pussy clenched around nothing and she needed him there, knew how much he was enjoying making her wait.

“My empress,” he growled, and he moved back to kiss her, deep, possessive, his tongue warring with hers, and she could barely keep up, the river coursing through her filled with fire and she was lost with him, delving her tongue into his mouth, wanting his taste and heat.  “My Master,” he breathed against her lips, his fingers still teasing her nipples and she cried out, heat curling through her stomach and she was wet, so wet for him, for this man who wanted her for her power, for her drive and might.  For her.

“I need you,” she gasped.

He snaked his fingers through her hair, pulling her head back so that she arched against him, she had to steady herself against his shoulder.  “Say it again,” he demanded.

“I need you,” she told him fiercely.  Gods did she.  He could feel the conviction in her words, and he licked his lips, as if savoring that feeling.  Her muscles clenched, and she gasped, “Now.”

“As my lady commands,” he smirked, and he was hoisting her up further, bending slightly to get her legs over his shoulders, and her head was spinning that they were here, on his terrace, her back pressed against the windows as he reared up to full height, the Force pressing her back and steadying her against the glass.  He didn’t even bother with pretense as his massive hands curled around her thighs, his thumbs rubbing at more sensitive skin at her inner thighs, and her hips bucked, gods was he going to be able to hold her?

He laughed again, his breath puffing against her opening and she moaned, shell shocked and high on both their elation.  “I have you, my dear.”  And he did, the pressure of his hold light but sure against her waist and arms.  He leaned in, licking a first hot stripe against her, and she thrust up, needed more.  “Gods, how I’ve missed your taste,” he rasped before he buried himself in her, his tongue delving and hot.

“I missed you,” she gasped.  “I always miss you.”

She felt him moan against her, making her shake.  He moved so that a thumb was on her clit, and her moan was edged and desperate, she couldn’t move her hands to force him closer, but she bucked against him, so close –

He slowed down and she cried out at the sweet torture of the rasp of his tongue, practically sobbing as the pleasure clawed through her.  And he pulled back to bite out “Rey.”

Her name on his lips shot through her, and she begged, “Ben! Please.”

He added a couple fingers and she shattered, a moment frozen in time and spun to the core of the planet, the nexus grabbed for her and filled her with the fire and molten fury of this stripped planet, barren but teeming with life, and the nexus took her, took her pleasure and life and the tie that bound her to Ben and burned through the darkness and death, illuminated the depths beneath the shrine and temple and palace and library, filling her world and its with light.

For a moment she saw the fountain, felt Ben with her, the water falling through her fingers.

She was trembling and panting, and he was looking up at her through his eye lashes, laid another casual lick on her clit and she shivered and moaned, begged, “Ben, please, I need you inside me.”

“Not yet, my dear,” he said, and the hold on her loosened, so that she fell into his arms with a gasp.  “I want us both to enjoy this.  And I have a meeting in just a few minutes.”

She groaned into his shoulder, trying to even out her breath as he held her.  “Be late.”

He tilted her head up and gave her another light kiss.  “Wait for me?” He breathed.

“Stay,” she growled, wrapping her fingers in his hair and pulling him in for a deep kiss, scorching, she delved deep.  He was as hungry as her, but his resolve was stronger than she expected -

She unlocked her legs from his hips and slid to her knees, her fingers pressing into his hips for a moment, reveling in the look of shock, he was frozen beneath her fingers, and it was quick work to unbuckle his uniform and she breathed, “I know you are always ready for me.”  She hissed as his cock sprang free and this was the first time she’d seen it so close and she had known he was massive and her mouth watered, her core clenched.  She was flushed with power, and she wanted to be his undoing.

She peered up at him through her lashes as she wetted her lips, gripped him in her hand.  He was still, stunned, and she didn’t give him more time to think before bobbing in to take him in her mouth, despite not being able to get him in all the way.  He groaned, and folded slightly, putting out an arm to brace himself on the window behind her. “Fuck.”

She cupped his balls and felt her gag reflex kick in and he was mumbling, “Kriffing hells.  No, you don’t have to do this, my dear.”

She drew back to look at him quizzically, because his resolve was wavering and the bonfire was roaring, contradicting his words.  “Do you not like it?”

He blanched, one hand running through his hair nervously.  “Your mouth is perfect.  You’re perfect.  But you don’t have to.  Not for me.”

“Then for who?” It came out quick and incredulous because what was he on about?  It felt like a short circuit. Either she was perfect or he didn’t like it.  And he seemed to like it.

He still looked pale and pained, but a crease of fury went through his brow.  “No.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, and his other hand tangled in her hair.  “No.  I meant, only if you want to do this.”

“I do,” she purred against his skin, nosing against his groin.  She took him in her mouth again, got another choked moan out of him for her efforts.  Pulled back.  “You like it.”

“Fuck me,” he groaned as she continued to bob, but all too soon his hand was drawing her head back and he was breathing heavily, his eyes alight with wonder.  “But I still have that meeting.”

She swallowed him as far as she could and he hissed, “Fuck.  Rey.  Please.  Have mercy.”

She drew back with a final lick, ready to admit defeat.  She felt powerful and thrilled but his doubt sang through her still.  His consternation.

He didn’t think she needed him.

He didn’t think he was worthy.

He didn’t think she loved him.

She’d fix that soon enough.

She rose, trailing her fingers up his torso to tilt his chin toward her, a final kiss scorching through her and whispered, “I want you at least three times when you return.”

“My scavenger,” he laughed, gathering his composure.  “Always hungry.”  He pressed another kiss to her lips, and something shifted.  “I’d make sure you never had to want for anything ever again.”

She swallowed, shaken by that observation and the fire in his eyes.  “Bold of you to think that I can be satiated.”

“Bold of you to assume that my resources are finite,” he whispered, his hand cupping her neck intimately, his thumb sweeping against her skin and making her tingle at his promise.  “Anything that I have, anything I could achieve, is yours.”

She swallowed, overcome by his passion and singular desire to please her.  “Hurry back,” she whispered.

“I will,” he promised, leading her back inside.  “Be patient.  I have something for you.”

“Greater than the gift you have already given me?”

She saw his shoulders freeze, his step almost falter, and if it was from her words or from her mind remembering the heat of the desert, the echo of how Anakin’s shoulders had born too many burdens.  A warrior. Just like Ben.

She let him walk on as if she did not know that he had realized the import of her words.  Let him clear his throat, turn and kiss her fingers as he reached sliding doors, hidden behind a plush scarlet curtain.  He let in a woman with a massive tray and nodded to her.  “Enjoy.  I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

She was distracted by the food, likely as he had intended, and she marveled at the delicacies, only matched by the gala she had attended.  She spent the next hour floating in the massive basin she’d found, contemplating her next move.

She was going to tell him. Today.

She felt when he was ready for her, and this time she didn’t bother dressing.

She padded across plush carpet and past the red curtain, into a massive living area.  Floor to ceiling windows loomed around much of the curve of the room, and she saw a couple sitting areas, a dining table, and a few desks. He was standing behind one of these, stately and his shoulders still weighed down by invisible burdens as he stared out into the chasm between the skyscrapers beyond.

She paused, looking out at the same chasm, struck as she always was by the vastness of Coruscant, by the glitz and glitter and might.  I’m here, she thought, the same thought that struck her every time her breath was caught by the jetstreams of this city of a planet.  I made it. 

She felt his laughter against her chest, even though he was still ten feet away.  “I am jaded and tired.  Your awe and passion for life never fails to amaze me.  Thank you.”

She considered her next words carefully, guarded suddenly against him because her breath suddenly hitched, wanting him.  Wanting him and wanting him to understand.

“You never cease to amaze me,” she said, honestly.  Quietly.  Plainly.  “Where are we?”

“I’ve bought these rooms for you,” he rumbled, and she couldn’t read anything in the set of his shoulders.  He still hadn’t turned.  He was guarded too.  The energy between them sang, but it was the tenor of background notes.  She was almost used to this now.  Being close to him, basking in the warmth of his rays. 

The silence was too long and she whispered, breaking the air like glass, “For me?”

For . . . her. 

Her. 

“Yes,” his voice was the hit of a rolling wave now, strong and smooth and magnetic, pulling her toward a shore.  “I have ensured complete privacy.  There are additional wings and levels for attendants, guards, students, envoys, whatever and whomever you need.  You’ve already found the landing platform, but there is a private hangar just beyond.  I’ve taken the liberty of selecting a number of crafts for you.  So that you may be free to go wherever you wish.”

He paused, and there was tension now in his shoulders, and she leaned in, flinching at the familiar consternation that ran as a rope through his posture, that underscored the serenity he’d been maintaining.  A crack in his guard.  The maelstrom spun with the consternation, warring with his peace. 

Setting her teeth on edge.  Wherever she wished?

She wished to be with him.  

He growled, “I thought this would please you.  But while I wish that you would come to see these quarters as a home, I have also acquired something else for you.” 

He turned, and she was caught in the heat of his gaze, as he zeroed in on her nakedness, as his eyes became hooded and his lips parted.  As he took in the japor snippet, dangling on its chain.  His guard failed further and he was burning, he was lost and stunned and a whirl of despair.

He was holding a metal square, and his gloved fingers flexed around it, curling around her heart because it was beating for him, and she was drowning, she was awash in conflict and desire. 

He rubbed a hand across his eyes, and groaned.  “Fucking look at you.  A better man than I could not withstand you.”

“Withstand me?” she snapped, because where the hell was he going with this, why was he hurt?  Had she done this to him somehow? 

She knew he wanted her.  But he remained behind the desk.

He flicked the metal to her so that it came to rest, spun gently before her eyes. 

“Take it,” he said, sounding strangled as he turned back to the window. 

She did, and blinked because – could this – had he –

“You own my planet?” she breathed, stuck, why had he –

“You own your planet, my dear,” he clipped out. 

“I – ” her mind was whirling, and she thought, a gift greater than what you have given me, a gift beyond my hopes or dreams or – “Ben.”

He shuddered as his name hit between his shoulder blades, and his hands were clenched now, as he leaned his forehead against the glass.  “You’re killing me,” he rasped.  “And I will gladly die for you.  But I am not strong enough – ”

She flitted to his side in half a blink, her hand on his cheek, and he leaned into her palm, moaned, tortured, and she didn’t understand, she didn’t understand –

“I am not strong enough.”  This time it was a statement.  “But I will give you anything you desire for as long as I am able.”  He took a deep, steadying breath.  “And I am able to please you, despite your indifference.”

Her indifference?

He turned and hoisted her on the desk in a movement so quick he was already devouring her before her mind caught up, because she was baffled and devastated by his pain and she had always known his confidence was belayed by self-loathing, by a belief that he was unworthy.  But he had always been driven, sure of his purpose, sure that he would please her. 

Now, as he licked into her mouth as a man starved, as she gasped because she was on fire and she could not think, as his hands pinned her, as he moaned into her mouth, she thought, I should never have ignored this.  I should never have ignored this consternation.  This belief that I would tire of him, that I would no longer have use for him.

He was still driven, all consuming, as he crowded her, her thighs spread around his hips and she needed to take control of this situation, she needed to think. 

She couldn’t as he pressed her back against the hard surface and plunged a finger into her folds, she couldn’t breathe through the dizzying kiss, the pleasure sparking through her from his massive digit reaching places inside her she had never been able to. 

But she had to.

Her throat felt thick as desperation constricted her, because, without him she could not breathe.  Because.  She loved him, and she loved him with the strength of a typhoon, the brightness of her desert, the depth of the oceans of Ahch-To. 

She rose with help from the Force to slam him back against the windows, she wasn’t even on the ground at this point, she finished the kiss by warring with his tongue, pulling his bottom lip with her teeth.  She broke away, landing gently and staring up at him.  He was breathing hard and his brow was furrowed.

“Tell me how to please you,” he breathed.

“No,” she said, and her voice was surprisingly strong.  “Tell me how to please you.”  His eyes were still guarded, his breath shallow as his eyes darted to her mouth.  She swallowed back her fear – what did she have to fear?  “You want my mouth on you?  You want me to wring your release from you, so that you are panting and destroyed, at my mercy?”

The silence was deafening for a moment as he blazed with heat and passion unvoiced.  “Yes,” he breathed. 

“You’ve been so good to me,” she told him, and she saw him flinch and knew.  She knew.  He needed this.  He needed to know how much she valued him.  “Let me be good to you.”  His throat worked as his gaze flickered over her, the hints of desperation and despair whirling with confusion and his desire.  “Sit.”

He did, watching her with hooded eyes as he settled into the ornate chair behind the desk.  “Is this yours?” she breathed.

“What?” he sounded hoarse.

“Your desk.”

“It’s yours.”

“Where will you work?” she leaned in, her hands on his knees.  Staring him down.

He swallowed again.  “I bought this suite for you.”

“And I want this to be yours,” she murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.  “So you will always remember how we christened it.  If you so wish.  Now.  Do you want me on my knees?”

He shuddered, with his whole body, and his fingers threaded uneasily through his hair.  “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you are mine,” she said simply, her gaze boring deeply into him, meaning it, meaning it with every fiber of her being as she dropped to the carpet, her fingertips still lightly on his knees.  “I take care of what is mine.”

She unlaced his leather pants, her fingers flexing now into his thighs, and her mouth was watering in anticipation.  She hadn’t realized how badly she wanted to taste him, how she wanted him to lose himself to her, until today. 

She took him in her mouth slowly, carefully, licking away the precum and cupping his balls to make him hiss.  She still couldn’t fit him in her mouth so she used her hand at the base, going as fast as she dared.

Obscene sounds filled the previous silence and he was groaning now, muttering some incoherent things, she caught some of them but he seemed to be trying to restrain himself – “Kriffing hells Rey, your mouth, I can’t, I’m going to lose my mind – ”

She pulled back to tell him, “Let go.  Please.”

He did, his hands resting in her hair and against the base of her neck as he moaned, “You take me so well, Rey.”

She was trying, as he flexed against her and her eyes streamed with the effort but she was flooded with triumph – she was doing this to him.  He was hers.  She was giving him this pleasure. 

“Rey,” he moaned, and tried to tug her away.  “I’m – ”

She ignored his efforts and waited until he shouted, coming in her mouth and half leaning over her, his thighs shaking. 

She wiped her mouth, smirking up at him though his eyes were closed.

Her head clear now.

“Ben,” she said, and his fingers flexed against her neck.  “You’re mine.”

“Please don’t,” and he suddenly sounded so broken, it speared through her, the consternation like a noose around her throat and she gasped.  “I was trying to give you freedom.  You don’t have to do this.” 

“Ben.”  She was still afraid.  She pushed through for him.  “Ben.  You know I am not as – not very effusive with my words.  I think I have done you a disservice.  You have always told me how much you want me.  How much you need me.  And I have never told you anything.”

“You don’t have to,” he murmured, and his breath brushed her ear.  “I know that you do not feel the same as I do.  I accept that.” 

“How do you know that?” she said angrily, pushing him back, forcing him to meet her gaze.  His fingers still tangled in her hair, like she liked.

“I know I can satisfy you,” he said simply.  “But I know that you do not care as I do.” 

She growled.  “I wear your family heirloom.  I saved your life.  I risked everything I’d gained to have you by my side.  How do I not care.”

His eyes widened when she said “family heirloom,” but he rasped, “You care.  Just not as deeply as I do.”

“I was upset when you told me that you were giving me the rooms not because I am not grateful – I am deeply grateful.  But because you told me I was free to go wherever I wish.  But I only wish to be with you.”

His breathing was uneven as he studied her, his gaze suddenly unreadable.  “You do not dislike the rooms?”

“I love everything you have given me,” she said emphatically.  “But I need to know that your gifts come with you.  That you will be here.  That you will sleep in my bed.  That you will work at this desk.  That you will move into the Jedi quarters on my base on my planet.”

“You want me to?” he said unsteadily. 

“I will always want you,” she said fiercely.  “I love you.  You do not need to ‘withstand me,’ as I want you right here.  As I need you right here, because the thought of you leaving makes me desperate.  It made me chase after Hux alone.  I can’t lose you.”

He was frozen, staring at her, and so she cleared her throat and continued.  “I had a vision of you on Coruscant and I thought I would lose you.  I thought I would destroy you somehow, that you would abandon me.  It’s all I knew before I left Jakku.  I have never been so afraid in my life.”

“My scavenger,” he said softly, his eyes flashing with sadness for a moment.

“Everything you have given me is beyond my wildest dreams,” she told him, the truth of it radiating from her, she had had nothing.  Had thought she would never have anything.  “I cannot match you, I cannot give you anything of even close in value because you have given me a home.  You have given me strength and love and respect.  All I can offer is myself in return.”

He swallowed thickly, and he whispered.  “That is all I want.  What I do not deserve.  But I am selfish, and I continue to love you even if I am not good enough for you.” 

“You are good enough,” she choked out, tears pricking unbidden.  “You are generous and strong and good.  I love you more than I thought it was possible to love.”  She took a fortifying breath and tugged him up, holding his hands as she stood.  “I love you so much that I am desperate and hungry and can never be satisfied.  I will yearn for you every day.  I will never have enough of you.”

“My love,” he whispered, “My Rey.  I am yours.  You know I am yours.” 

She kissed him hard and fast, and when she pulled back, she was breathless and light headed and brimming suddenly with happiness.  “And now?” she said.  “And now do you understand that you cannot leave me?”

“I am sorry for presuming otherwise,” he rumbled as he pushed his hands beneath her ass to hoist her against him.  “But to be fair, you are a very complex and mysterious woman.  I often misread you.”

“Not often,” she corrected him as he made his way toward their – their – bedroom.  “Just when you think that I am indifferent,  when I haven’t been indifferent in my entire life.”

“You’re very good at faking it,” he laughed, and her heart was soaring.  “You certainly had me fooled.”

“Couldn’t have my apprentice thinking that I’d go easy on him,” she quipped.

“Your apprentice needs some additional training,” he rumbled, pushing open the sliding door with his mind and slamming it before she had taken a breath.  “Since he was so devastatingly wrong this time.” 

“Yes,” she murmured.  “He was.”

“You were even naked for me,” he groaned and he settled her onto the bed, loomed large over her in the way she liked.  “I was already dead set on giving you those escape routes.  I thought for sure, given the chance, you’d leave me.”

“And you still gave them to me.  I’m going to consider all of this as a reflection on your low self esteem and not a reflection on what you think of me.”

“Why would a goddess stay with a servant?” he murmured against her collarbone. 

New rules,” she stated, grinding her teeth in annoyance, and also to keep the fire building inside her at bay.  “My apprentice may not put me on a pedestal when I am just as human.”

“You are gloriously inhuman,” he growled.

“Next rule,” she spoke over him.  “The punishment for calling me Master in private still stands.”

“Yes, Master,” he breathed against her breast and she moaned as his lips closed over a nipple before he slid down to spread her thighs with his broad shoulders.

“Anyone may know about us,” she said softly, carding her hand through his hair, and he jerked his head up to meet her gaze.  “And you may touch me in public, within reason.  Will that abate your jealousy?”

He looked abashed for a moment, and said, “I am sorry I could not control it yesterday.  So many men wanted you, and you were smiling at them.”

She rolled her eyes.  “Yes, a crime.”

“Wait, within reason?” He growled against her thigh.  “Is holding you within reason? Kissing you?  Taking your hand?”

“Yes,” she said breathlessly, distracted by his strong fingers, now pinning her legs.

“Are you sure?” He said softly.  And the tone cleared the haze of lust. 

“Ben,” she said seriously, her hand closing over the japor snippet.  “What does this mean to you?”

“I told you,” he rumbled, straightening up slightly, glowering.  “A token of my fealty.”

She raised a brow.  “And?”

His shoulders slumped slightly.  “My grandfather loved my grandmother so much he set the world on fire.  He made it for her.  I wanted you to have it to remind me that my love can be as strong, but to warn me from that path.”  He lifted a hand to scrub against his eyes in agitation.  “It was selfish.”

“It is beautiful,” she corrected him, her fingers lifting his chin, searching out his molten gaze.  “Thank you.  And why do you think I wear it?”

His brow furrowed.

“I’ll protect you from their fate,” she promised.  “And to show you that I love you.”

He stretched back up the bed to embrace her, emotions surging through him like a riptide.  “I accept your new rules,” he rasped against her hair.

“I heard you, while I was asleep,” she whispered, worried that he would be angry for a heartbeat before easing the tension in her neck with her fingers. “Telling me to come back.”

He stiffened only for a moment before relaxing, his hand stroking her back idly.  “I would have come for you.”

“You did,” she told him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.  “Also I need to get dressed, I hear that we have visitors.”

He groaned and hissed, “Let’s ignore them.”

“No, they know we are here,” she laughed and extracted herself from the tangle of the bed and his limbs.

Ben pulled a dress out from behind a panel and she rolled her eyes.  “Indulge me,” he told her, his gaze raking over her form.  “I’ll look forward to unwrapping you later.”

She shuddered and he murmured, “May I?” from behind her shoulder and she let him dress her as she assessed the contingent that had been let into the suite.

She grabbed Ben’s hand before he could start to torture her again and dragged him into the living area, where his mother, Chewie, Finn, and Rose waited. 

“We just wanted to make sure you were alright,” Rose chimed, her elation palpable as she took in their intertwined fingers. 

“I am well,” she smiled at Rose before giving her a one-armed hug, not willing to let go of Ben.

Finn whistled.  “Where are we?”

“Our apartment for when we are on Coruscant,” she said easily, and Leia was radiating such intense delight that it almost hurt to look at her. 

Rose shrugged.  “As long as I am not enlisted to fight off bounty hunters who want a portion of the debt you’re in for this thing.”

As the others laughed, Ben tugged her close and she was seared to her bones, she was a quasar pulsing with him.  “That is what you want?” he asked, his eyes burning bright.

“Yes,” she squeezed his hand, and for a moment she saw a thought in his mind about the fountain, their hands intertwined as they were in the present, and she couldn’t breathe.  Couldn’t stop the hope and joy welling in her chest, infusing her ocean with light and depthless love.  Couldn’t speak, save, “Please.”

Notes:

Finita.

Today I made a "pilgrimage" to the "Star Wars Villa" on Lake Como, Villa Balbianello. It's where they filmed Anakin and Padme's first kiss, the location of the Naberrie Estate on Naboo. It was completely breathtaking, and I resolved to finish this chapter in my life.

Thank you everyone for reading, and please drop a line in the comments, always appreciated. Be safe and well, and may the Force be with you.