daxfarroh

[daxfarroh]

Chapter 4

A slew of red mud splashed over the Falcon as it touched down on Ryloth. When the hatch slid open, Rey pushed toward the exit ramp with the rest, desperate to steal a breath of fresh air. She was somewhat disappointed to find the atmosphere dense and steamy, though the scent of the lush foliage surrounding them was a welcome change from the stale, recirculated air on the ship. Feet sank easily into the mire as the Rebels found their footing. A few, including Poe, slipped and landed with a comical splatter, though Rey pretended not to notice.

Always leading from behind, Leia was one of the last to emerge. As she did, Rey rushed to help her down the ramp, offering a discreet hand.

“Thank you, Rey,” Leia said, taking her hand in a most dignified fashion. “Lovely, isn’t it?”

Rey agreed that Ryloth was a sight for sore eyes, though the sticky feeling in her lungs would take some getting used to. As would the rather oppressive vegetation that blocked out any views beyond 20 feet and a mysterious, high-pitched drone that had not ceased since their arrival. Jakku was no pleasure planet, Rey thought, but at least you could see what was coming at you.

“Don’t worry about the noise, dear. It’s just the bugs,” Leia said.

“Bugs?” Finn was behind them, carrying a pale but improving Rose in his arms. “What kind of bugs sound like that?” he asked, eyes narrowed.

“Probably just the small ones.” Leia waved her free hand in dismissal. “It’s the big ones you need to worry about. They’re much quieter.”

Finn stopped in his tracks, holding Rose tighter as she squirmed and glared up at him.

“Oh! That’s just great,” he declared. “We barely survived the First Order, and now we’re going to get eaten by giant insects. Let’s get back on the ship, Rose.”

“Give me a break,” Rose’s rebuke was surprisingly strong. “When will you learn that the rest of the galaxy isn’t as sterile and squeaky clean as Starkiller Base? Am I gonna be the one who has to kill the spiders in this relationship?”

The ex-stormtrooper’s cheeks reddened at the mention of their “relationship.” Rey turned away, allowing them some privacy in what appeared to be a “moment”—another word Poe had taught her during one of their many evenings spent watching Finn dote on his lady love.

With Leia delivered safely to a sitting stump, Rey wandered off to the edge of the clearing where she could hear the babbling of moving water. Through a few dozen trees, she found the stream, bordered by smooth stones and fern-like plants that shimmered despite the stillness. The water called to her, and she crouched beside it, plunging her hands into its crystal depths and bringing the cool liquid to her face. It was a magical sensation, and Rey realized that her prolonged stay in space had dulled her senses. Every rock and tree in this forest was vibrating with the Force, and the fresh water now dripping from her features revived her. It was a technicolor world, and Rey was living in it.

“Sure is good to be alive, isn’t it?”

Though it was a friendly greeting, the male voice startled Rey, who had briefly forgotten that anyone else was on this wild, garden planet. She turned around to find Poe, covered in mud from his little spill, trudging toward her and her secret stream.

“Yeah,” she replied, standing up. “It’s really beautiful.”

Much to her horror, Poe stripped off his clothing and stood before her in only his briefs, giving her a jolly nod before splashing unsanctimoniously into the water.

Rey stood frozen, mouth ajar, wondering what she should do. She had never seen a naked man before—well, not this naked, with only a thin layer of white cotton shielding his private bits from view. And she knew that, now, if she looked, that material would be soaked through and… no, she wouldn’t go there. It couldn’t be denied that the sight of his well-muscled and shockingly hairy chest—if only for a fleeting second—had left her quite… off-kilter. Was he trying to make her feel this way? she wondered. No. She shook herself out of her daze. Poe was her friend. It was only weird if she made it weird.

“What? Did no one teach you how to swim?”

Rey gathered the courage to face Poe, who had taken to the water like a thala-siren. It was true that she’d never learned to swim on the barren landscape of Jakku, but this stream was shallow enough to stand in.

“Come on in! The water’s fine!” Poe slapped the surface invitingly and then disappeared beneath it.

Scanning the perimeter for any spectators, Rey saw no one and resolved to get in with Poe. They were just bathing, after all. God knows they needed it. Her belt and lightsaber were first, then her tunic and shoes. Her chest binding and pants would stay on. Stowing the items carefully on a dry rock, Rey braced herself and waded into the stream. It felt wonderful and a hundred times more reviving than just wetting her face.

“Hey! It’s the Jedi who can’t swim!” Poe welcomed her in his own way. “Isn’t this nice?”

Rey splashed him solidly in the face and laughed as he spat water between curses.

“And I can’t splash you back because you would choke me with the Force,” he teased her. “Or worse: read my mind.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know.” Poe raised one dark brow, his face barely above the water. “You may be a late bloomer, but you weren’t born yesterday.”

However, Rey was certain she did not know what he meant and that her own face was showing it. To escape the tension, she submerged her head beneath the water and stayed down there for a good while, letting the weightlessness ease her discomfort. When she resurfaced, Poe was gathering his clothes to soak in the stream.  

“I saw you slip earlier,” Rey jabbed.

“Oh yeah? Bet you liked that.” There was a bit of an edge to Poe’s tone that wasn’t there just a minute ago. Rey wondered why but refused to let up.

“I did.”

The broad smile consuming Rey’s face at the recent memory of the commander cursing in the mud seemed to lighten his mood, and all was well again.

“I’m not sure what you’re washing your clothes for. What with all the mud on this planet and your track record.”

“You may be right, but I have an important meeting this evening. Gotta look sharp.” Poe winked at her and she thanked the water for cooling her cheeks.

“Meeting? Are you going to the capitol with Leia?”

Poe looked over both shoulders oddly and moved closer to Rey, squatting down on the stream bank. Rey fought her gaze, which was pulled like a magnet to his soggy briefs, just inches from her face. When he spoke, his voice was hushed.

“Nah,” Poe said. “While she’s out there trying her luck with handshakes and flattery, I’ll be having a chat with the younger Yendor.”

The spark in his eyes told her he was being mischievous, and it made Rey worry she was in on some big secret. She didn’t like keeping secrets.

“Does Leia know?” she asked him.

“Nope,” Poe answered shortly. “And we best keep it that way. Got me?”

All the flustered feelings Rey had been experiencing immediately morphed into burning annoyance. It made her remember herself. Splashing out of the water, she met Poe on the bank and forced him to stand, now oblivious to their mutual state of undress.

“No, no, no. I do not have you. Do you think I’m going to help you keep secrets while your little plans undermine those of our general? Do you think I haven’t heard what you did on Raddus? I know you believe you’re in the right, but you can’t keep doing this.”

The young commander’s features fell sullen. She had hurt him. Perhaps she shouldn’t have mentioned Raddus.

“I’m not undermining anything, Rey,” Poe said in earnest. “This is an insurance policy. A Plan B if Plan A—Leia’s way—doesn’t pan out.”

He turned away and began wringing out his clothes, all the while continuing with his speech.

“Do you know what happens if Leia’s plan doesn’t work? We can’t survive on hope alone, as she’d like you to believe. No, we are at the end of the line—unless we get a lucky break, and soon. If we don’t, we’re dead. All of us. The Resistance, the Republic, every sliver of freedom we cherish in this galaxy is good as gone. So yeah, you can bet I have a Plan B.”

With his pants and shirt wrung out and hanging on a tree limb, Poe strapped on his sidearm, faced Rey and waited for a response, which she could not provide. As she stood there dumbly, drying slowly in the humid heat, she watched the famed pilot stride back toward the clearing and, surely, all of his comrades, his bare bottom quite visible through translucent undies.

While she’d known keeping Poe in line would be a challenge, she’d not realized it was one she would have to undertake while Leia was still alive. Somehow, that made it all the more daunting, as she wondered if she would someday have to choose between the general she loved and her cause.  

[daxfarroh]

Chapter 3

“Ah, Rey. Thank you for joining me.”

Rey nearly laughed at the hilarity of this greeting, issued by the most magnificent woman in the galaxy. She would join General Leia Organa anywhere—in the fiercest of battles and in imminent death. Surely, she would meet her in this cramped corner of the Falcon for lunch.

“I’m sure you’re wondering what I’ve been doing here in my little office, all shut in for the past week,” Leia said, gesturing at a rather intimidating mess of maps and data pads. She sat down heavily with a cup of milk tea and a plate of rehydrated bread Rey had brought her. “Please, sit. Have some tea. Or something stronger—I don’t mind. God knows you probably need it.”

Rey collected her own cup of steaming tea from the galley just a few feet away and took a seat as Leia studied her with a furrowed brow. She looked horribly tired.

“I’m afraid I’ve neglected you, Rey. I know you must feel very alone.”

It was true that the just the thought of being so close to Leia every waking hour was one of the few pleasures of being packed into this ship with a dozen other souls, and it was true that Rey had seen much less of her than she’d hoped. When she wasn’t alone in her “office,” pacing back and forth, making calls and hovering over a holomap, her time was consumed with grave questions from Poe and others, asking about rations and plans and whether or not they were doomed.

“But I promise you you’re not alone,” Leia said now, placing a soft hand over Rey’s. “You are of great importance to the cause, Rey, and to me. I will train you as best I can—as soon as there is time. I can help you read the texts and make sense of all that dribble drabble.”

She winked and Rey grinned. Those texts had been nothing but a massive headache thus far. “I would like that very much. But I know your work here is more important.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” Leia responded, slumping a little in her seat to stare at her lap momentarily. “I’m afraid saving the Resistance has come down to food, water and a place to rest. We need to lick our wounds for a while. But once those needs are met, when we get a bit of time, we will rebuild. I’m sure of it.”

“I am, too,” Rey said. “Do you have a plan?”

“’Plan’ is a strong word.” Leia rose to her feet and turned on the holomap, summoning before them a hovering planet of swirling earthen colors. “I would call it a ‘proposal’—a proposal for charity which I’m going to make to an old friend. Have you ever been to Ryloth?”

Rey shook her head.

“Of course you haven’t, I’m sorry. My old brain,” Leia palmed her forehead in embarrassment. She then returned her attention to the spinning globe, moving her hand over it wistfully.

“Ryloth is a beautiful planet in the Outer Rim, inhabited by a fierce, freedom-loving race called the Twi’lek. On Ryloth, there are supporters of the Resistance, as many fear the First Order will soon cast its eye on them. And, on Ryloth, there is an abandoned shipyard from the Old Empire—one that still houses at least one viable battleship. But most importantly, my friend Yendor lives there. He’s retired and old, like me, but still respected in government. And he owes me a favor. … I believe he’s good for it, though I’ll admit it’s a longshot.”

“And if he can’t help us?” Rey asked.

“Well, then at least we’ll have a place to lay low for a few days and get our bearings. I don’t think B--,” she stopped herself, drawing a sharp breath. “I don’t think the First Order will come looking for us there. At least not for a while.”

A pang struck Rey as she wondered if she should share what she had learned last night. She was terrified to tell anyone about the Bond, but she wasn’t sure she could keep anything from Leia.  

“I could use some fresh air and a break from this tin can, couldn’t you?” Leia patted the rust-stained wall of the Falcon as if it were a living creature. “No offense,” she told the ship, her eyes wandering its dusty corners, seeing ghosts that Rey could not. “You know, I can feel him so clearly here. I keep catching myself outside the cockpit door, expecting to find him and Chewie inside, arguing. He sure did love flying this rusty bucket under the radar, where even I couldn’t find him. … Is it wrong to be jealous of a ship?”

Rey, all but speechless at this moment of intimacy, struggled to hold the stately woman’s raw gaze without betraying the chills that were overtaking her. “I miss him, too,” was all she could think to say.

“He is with Luke, in the Light.”

Leia sat down again, opposite Rey. For the first time, Rey saw the weight of age on her. It was the heaviest she’d ever seen, as if this woman was a thousand years old and had suffered the loss of a thousand loves. But, in truth, she had, Rey realized. Perhaps no one alive had witnessed more death. Now, here on this ship, who did she have? What planet did she call home? Leia Organa was, in fact, the loneliest person in the galaxy. And yet, still, she maintained this aura of purpose, of perpetual fortitude. What for? Rey wondered. How does she breathe, let alone lead us to yet another redemption?

“I’ll be joining them soon.”

The words wrenched Rey out of her own thoughts. “What? What do you mean?”

Leia sighed, taking time to choose her words and muster her token half smile that always padded the worst of news.

“Rey, after I was blasted out of the ship, I haven’t exactly been feeling my best.”

“I’m sure you haven’t. That was terrible. But you’re getting better. You’ve been getting stronger ever since, though I’m sure the food here isn’t doing you any favors,” Rey was spewing out sentences, delaying whatever was about to be said, because she knew she did not want to hear it. “But you’re doing better—”

“Rey,” Leia stopped her gently, taking her hand once more. “Perhaps twenty years ago I could have come out without a scratch, but let’s face it: I’m no spring chicken. The doctors told me, when I woke up, that my time is limited.”

“How limited?” Rey snatched her hand away, feeling cold. “How much time do you have left?”

Leia sighed again and, for once, appeared unsure, as if she was weighing all the consequences of telling her. After what felt like an eternity, she made her decision.

“Weeks. Maybe months, if I’m lucky.”

It was as if the Force was holding Rey in her seat, squeezing its ruthless fingers around her lungs and making her head spin. No, this wasn’t computing. This couldn’t be right. Not Leia. She was immortal.

“Rey?”

Suddenly, Rey’s senses flooded back to her all at once and the blood rushed to her legs, compelling her to leap to her feet and run from Leia without any explanation. When she returned, she was holding an ancient, leatherbound book the size of her own torso.

“I can’t really read it, but I’ve been studying some healing practices.” She opened the book to the marked page and pointed at the strange text. “If you help me, I can probably heal you.”

A smile lit up Leia’s face—the proudest, fondest smile Rey had ever received—but it didn’t reach the general’s sad eyes.

“I’m aware of the Jedi healing practices and, unfortunately, you can’t fix being old. Someday soon, you’ll be able to mend a bone with just a touch, but you can’t fix the damage I’ve endured. So many years of damage, Rey. So much living and suffering. It’s been one hell of a life, and I’m going to make sure I don’t waste a second of it.”

Leia smiled again as a tear slid down Rey’s cheek. There wasn’t a dry eye between them, but Leia had more to discuss.

“Enough of this depressing stuff. Let’s talk about the future.”

“The future?”

“Mhmm. You, my dear, are going to play a very important role in it. Are you ready?”  Rey nodded, though she was not ready for any kind of future without Leia.

“As you might have guessed, Poe is my heir apparent in this. I think we both know that it doesn’t really matter who I choose—it will be Poe just the same.”

Rey’s mouth formed a watery smirk at the thought of Poe, as she had recently come to know him. She liked to think of him as a friend. Their comradery had been immediate upon introduction. He liked calling her his “torture buddy,” since they had both survived an interrogation from Kylo Ren. Yet she also knew him to be a pilot who would fly through a sun if it got in his way. And he didn’t care much for taking orders.

“Poe has the potential to be a great leader,” Leia continued. “He takes leaps that others would consider suicide, which is how I’ve gotten this far. And he’s a bit insane. Which is why you must be his guiding light.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. You are not only, well, you, Rey, but you are also the last Jedi. You represent all who came before you and carry all of them with you. When I am gone, my soul, too, will live on inside you, because mine is the soul of a Jedi. When Poe goes astray, you must bring him back, as I would. Do you think you can do that?”

Without hesitation, because it was Leia who was asking her, Rey replied, “Yes.”

“Good. Now, call me Master Leia.”

[daxfarroh]

Chapter 2

Six months earlier. …

It had been a week since the battle at Crait, a week without standing on solid ground. On a larger ship this would not be so bad, but the Falcon with its trademark bumps and rattles made forgetting you were barreling through uncharted space in a rusty metal projectile impossible. It was quickly becoming unbearable for Rey. She had never been off-planet for so long, nor gone so long without being alone. A few short weeks ago, she would have killed to be in this exact scenario: far, far away from Jakku on a ship of her own, travelling with those she called her friends or even her family. But it seemed the habits developed over a lifetime of simple survival do not die easy, for she found herself hiding out in dark corners, leafing through the Jedi texts and sneaking tiny nibbles from the rations she'd squirreled away. And, despite the mustiness of all the bodies packed into the ship, the ceaseless static of nervous conversation and the reverent nods that greeted her at every turn, she had never felt more alone.

She knew she was lying to herself when she wondered why she felt this way, but she lied anyway. In her moments of weakness, when she couldn't distract herself with books or stupid exercises or games with Finn and Poe; when everyone else was sleeping, and she was left to deal with the throb in her chest, she remembered his senseless face. Melancholy and young in the light of drifting embers. How she'd knelt beside him on the lacquered floor and brushed the dark locks from his forehead so she could kiss him there. It was gentle, so he would not wake; so that she would only be a whisper in his floating mind, one that would weave itself in and remain long after she was gone.

Why had she done that? She truly did not know. He'd tried to kill her, after all, not long after she'd given him that kiss.

Then there was his face again. Hurt, defeated, betrayed. She'd stared deep into eyes that were no longer pleading but still retained a singular question, and she’d shut the door on him. Again. In that moment, it had felt right to end it. She had been infuriated - enraged by his viscous retaliation and high off the thrill of piloting the Falcon and wielding the Force to save her comrades. She didn't need him. She didn't need a teacher. She had her friends and the Jedi texts. As Leia would say, she had all she needed.

But now, after countless hours spent poring over dense pages of head-splitting jargon, she had made no progress in the Jedi department. As for her friends, Finn was still Finn, but it wasn't like it was before. As she watched him linger for days over the comatose Rose, she realized how little she knew him, how brief their time together had been. And Leia? She was entirely occupied with saving their rebel asses, and there wasn't much Rey could do to aid her in those diplomatic endeavors. Their interactions were few and far between - nowhere near what Rey would have liked.

So, she was left with this feeling. It was familiar, the one she hated most of all.

A memory of a memory. A mother and a father; promises made and tears shed. And then their absence and the sand whipping up to sting her eyes as a ship lifts off, watching it dissolve into the atmosphere under broiling heat. ... That first night spent alone and the shock of the cold setting in. That first mark scratched into scrap metal with trembling hands. … Another memory - more vivid: a trader with kind eyes. "A gift fit for a princess," he says as he pulls a shimmering orb from his bag. He holds it before her with two hands. "Coruscant," he says. Spiderwebs of golden light stretch around the tiny planet, and as she takes it delicately and holds it up to the sun, the lights dim to reveal a mosaic of geometry. When brought close to her eyes, she can see towers and arteries and the movements of life. It is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen. … She carries it with her everywhere. She knows the risk, but she wouldn't dare leave her treasure unattended, lest it be stolen. She is always wary of it there, wrapped in the folds of her scarf. But one day she slips, and she hears the shatter far below. When she slides down to its resting place, it is an opalescent dust. Beyond repair. …

It had been a week since the Bond last connected them. Rey assumed that when she'd shut the door on the man she once knew as Ben Solo, she had quite literally done the same with the Bond. This understanding did not settle well with her as yet another restless day passed by on the Falcon, and her comrades fell silent in sleep.

Despite her best efforts to deceive herself, she felt as though she'd done something very bad. Dirty, almost, like she had stepped on a beautiful moth. But it wasn't real, she told herself, again and again. We were only mice in a maze. …

Somehow, that thought twisted the knife deeper still. And it was because of this that she plunged even further into her book, filling her mind with a din of meaningless words to occupy the dark space inside of her.

She felt him before she saw him. When she looked up, he was sitting at a desk, engrossed in some kind of clerical work. He glanced back and forth from one data pad to another, typing entries with nimble fingers. He had dark circles under his eyes and his unwieldy hair was unkempt. Rey knew he felt her there, though he didn't make any moves to show it.

She waited, breathless. It felt like it had been an eternity since she last saw him, and there may as well have been an eternity between them. She understood this, so she just watched him. The hunched, dark mass of his form, conforming awkwardly to the confines of a chair; the crease in his brow, the slight movements of full lips.

He may be Supreme Leader, but an actor he is not, she thought as he visibly struggled to feign indifference. His eyes never wavered from his work and his demeanor was collected, but the jumping muscle in his jaw gave him away. It amused Rey that she could read him so easily, but after several minutes of watching this, her intrigue gave way to frustration.

"So, this is how it's going to be from now on?" her voice rang out.

Nothing. … She sighed audibly.

"You're going to ignore me? Like a child." There was a lightness in her tone. She wasn't trying to chastise him too much. He had every right to ignore her, given the circumstances. Though, in all fairness, she had the right to kill him, given the circumstances. So, he could at least acknowledge her.

When he finally spoke, it was calm and controlled, but he couldn't keep the edge out of it. "You're up late." He did not look up or stray from the task before him.

Rey hadn't actually considered what he would say if he did speak. "I - I'm reading."

"The Jedi texts?" he asked without hesitation.

"Yes—how did you know?"

"I'm Supreme Leader of the galaxy and the most powerful Force-wielder with formal Jedi training alive. Did you think I would not know if the sacred texts of the Order were stolen?"

Rey gulped.

"Well, don't worry. I'm not mad," he said, a bit mockingly. "You can keep them. They're the stuff of antiquity. I suppose you could trade them for a better ship.”

"Actually, I'm learning a lot," Rey lied. She was about as good at that as Kylo Ren was at acting. "I just started healing, actually--"

“Even if those books were at all useful, you can't learn how to wield the Force from a book. You need a teach -"

Rey stood abruptly, cutting him short. Why was this one subject the cause of so much strife?

“We are not doing this again.” She fought to keep her voice low so as not to wake the ship. “I don't know how long we'll be stuck here in the Bond, but I won't hear anything else from you about being my teacher. Is that understood?"

It shocked Rey in her trembling rage as Kylo Ren finally raised his eyes to meet her. As he did, she was sorry to look at him, because those eyes were so very dark.

"I wasn't offering," he said.

His dismissal stung more than she could have expected.

"Fine," she nodded. "Good."

He said nothing more and returned to his work. Not knowing what to do or say, or how long this pleasant interaction would continue, Rey sat back down and pretended to read the dusty old text that was before her. They remained that way, in stretching silence, for many long minutes. Rey snuck glances in his direction, but he did not reciprocate (as far as she could tell). It was like being alone, almost. With the entire ship fast asleep, the only sign of their presence the occasional snore or groan.

After a while of sitting like that, she forgot herself and that he knew she was there, and just observed him. The formidable Kylo Ren bent over his clerical duties. It was a sight that warmed her, strangely enough. She had never seen him this way, so quiet and still. And the longer she watched him, the harder it became to remember why she had ever been afraid of him. What was this man capable of? she asked herself again. This question had consumed her over the past week. Dark or light, how far could he go?

Rey realized then that perhaps the Bond was waiting for her to ask. That perhaps it was sentient and merciful, and it knew she could never truly rest if she did not know. Thus, in a leap of faith, she asked.

"Did you know that I was flying the Falcon?" Her own voice startled her.

As the dark knight raised his black eyes to meet her own, she immediately remembered why she had been afraid of him.

"What?" he asked quietly.

"Did you know?" she repeated, gathering her courage. "Did you know I was flying the Millennium Falcon at Crait?"

Rey saw something pass through his eyes, but she didn't know what it was. She could not read him now.

"No," he answered. It was definitive. Simple and firm.

Rey released the breath she had been holding with a heavy sigh. Emboldened, she probed a bit more. "Are you hunting us now? Is that what you're working on?"

"No."

Rey found that very hard to believe. "So, you're not chasing us?" Surely, he had something up his sleeve.

"No," he repeated dismissively. "I know you think ruling the galaxy is all rape and pillaging, but in reality it's a lot of paperwork. I have more important things to do than chase you and your friends through deep space."

"So, you're just going to let us go?"

"Are you disappointed?" There was a ghost of a smirk on his pallid face. "I'm sorry to break it to you, but you and your - cause - are now irrelevant. It's over. You should find a planet to land on before you run out of rations. Or, on second thought, maybe you should just keep going." He shrugged wickedly. "Bottom line: I don't care what you do, as long as you stay out of my way."

"That’s not true," retorted Rey, finding herself unable to sit. She rose to her feet once more, leveling with him. "It's not over. Leia will bring us back. You know she will."

"Maybe," he shrugged again. "I know she won't give up. She's never known life without war. ... I, for one, would like to."

"Like to what?"

"Know a life without war." He delivered those words sagely, as if he were addressing a six-year-old student. Then, he returned to his datapads.

Rey studied him for a moment, growing increasingly hot and irritated. He could hate her all he wanted, but she would not allow him to treat her like a fool.

"No. No, that isn't it." She shook her head vigorously. "Kylo Ren is not a pacifist.” She took a step toward him, growing taller over his seated form. "Kylo Ren thrives in battle. A lifetime of this," she gestured at his desk and his datapads, “would kill you. …. No. That is definitely not it."

"It isn't?" he retorted, eyebrows raised in mock interest. "What is it then?"

She took another step, now looking down at him slightly, which gave her confidence. "You won't chase us anymore because you know you can't kill us." She didn’t wait for a response. "You've tried, many times, to kill me - and your mother. And each time you've failed." Kylo Ren's face remained stony, but his jaw was working overtime. She pressed on. "I can't believe that it was a lack of prowess or resources on your part. No. You can't kill us, and you've finally realized it."

Her words settled over them like drifting snow, and the typically close cabin of the ship grew icy cold. Had she overstepped herself this time? He wasn't saying anything, and he was looking very volatile indeed. Suddenly, he was a man barely hanging on.

Abandoning his task altogether with the abrupt flinging of both datapads, he rose to his full, looming height, balled his broad hands into fists and fixed his eyes on the desk, which he now dwarfed.

"What do you want from me, Rey?" His voice was unnervingly low and strangled through clenched teeth. “Do you want me to say it?"

Without warning, he swiveled his massive head to face her, piercing her with a deathly stare. Rey stood very still. She would not provoke him any further.

"After all this," he swept his arms madly at everything around them and in between them. "After all of this, you want me to say it?"

At this close distance, with the heat of his breath almost palpable on her face, Rey could take him in fully. He looked exhausted. Yet slightly crazed. The scar she had given him was stark against ashen skin. And he looked distinctly tortured - more so than usual. He was an animal that had been kicked too many times.

"Do you?!"

"No," she whispered.

The silence hung for a moment before he sat back down, still shaking with whatever emotions were raging through his system. He struggled to regain his composure as he bent down to pick up the datapads and placed them on the desk.

"Just stay out of my way." His tone was tinged with finality. “And stop reading those books. They'll only make things worse."

With that, he was gone. As if he had never been there at all. Rey breathed a sigh of relief. It took her a moment to gather her thoughts. She wasn't sure what had just transpired. There was so much swirling around inside her. Laying her head back against the wall, she closed her eyes and allowed the vibrations of the Falcon to lull her into a quieter state.

No, she still wasn't sure what had happened between them. But as she went over in her mind the truths that he had revealed to her, she arrived at a startling conclusion: Ben Solo was not dead. Kylo Ren was now Supreme Leader, but it was Ben Solo who could not kill her. And it was Ben Solo who could not tell her why.

[daxfarroh]

Chapter 1

On a rebel ship.

She stared at the ceiling, her mind running in useless circles. Although her room had been prepared for her with plumes of flowers and freshly turned-down sheets, she hadn't bothered to confirm what she already knew: that the blaster-proof door was locked from the outside.

They had loved her, once - called her their hope. The last Jedi. They used to whisper about her amongst themselves, spreading tall tales of heroic feats. Now, they still whispered, but not in reverence. Now, it was questions and doubts and inconceivable rumors that her more steadfast supporters adamantly denounced.

It was worse to hear them defend her, because a few of those rumors were true. And although she didn't think of them as sins, exactly, she knew that she had done things that were subversive to everything and everyone she thought she knew - thought she loved - just a few short months ago.

As she lay here now with her head spinning, she could not be sure what “sin” was or if it even existed. If it did exist and was as immutable as some believed it to be, well then, she was as good as dead to the Light. She should have gone up in flames along with the Jedi temple.

In truth, she never was a Jedi - let alone the last. The only one who could bear that title was locked up somewhere else on this ship, suffering at the hands of justice. Although he was shielding her from this, she could feel the vibrations of his pain through the Bond.

God help her, she could always feel him. He was dark as deep space. But also like that realm of the unknown, he kept going and going. The more she looked, the more she found. He was power; he was danger; he was passion, and he could love - immeasurably - of this she was sure. He was everything. And although he still scared her sometimes in the wilderness of his wrath, he was hers - undoubtedly.

And as her hand rested upon the flicker of him that grew inside her, she was Rey. Just Rey. Scavenger of Jakku. She was nothing but her quick mind, her even quicker body and the Force that fueled it. And a hope - a hope that burned eternal for someone to call her own.

She was nothing, but it was enough. Because, for the first time in her life, she had found someone who thought she was somebody. Not a weapon or a means to an end, but someone's end worth fighting for.

She was Rey of Jakku, and she was going to find a way out.

***

"Rey?" He had felt her presence but was unsure as he squinted through the darkness. "Is it you?"

"Yes."

"Come here." He had been working on using a less commanding tone with her, but he had to admit the last few hours had worn him down. Like many times before, he wished he had his mask. As she crossed the cell to sit beside him in a few wary steps, he composed himself in the Force.

"You look terrible," she said without jest as she explored his battered visage and torso with sad eyes. "Did they torture you?"

"Not very well," he scoffed, managing a smirk.

The back of his head was resting against the unforgiving wall and he could still barely see her between the dark, his hanging hair, and his swollen eyes. Everything hurt, but he knew what he had to do.

"That charlatan wouldn't last a minute on Starkiller Base."

He awaited her usual rebuttal but didn't get one, so he turned his head painfully to really look at her, only to find tears streaming down her cheeks. He could take on just about anything or anybody. But this, he could never take.

"Hey," he took her face in one hand and held her eyes with his. "Stop that. ... It's okay."

"No, you stop," she pushed back, suddenly indignant. She arrested his hand from its task of wiping her tears and pulled it toward her stomach. He wasn't sure if this was intentional. "It's not okay.” She was fervent, wet eyes shining.

"But it is," he said with simplicity. "I deserve this. I deserve to die tomorrow. You know that. You know me."

"That is not true, Ben Solo!" She was fierce now and fighting her climbing voice. "If you say that - if you believe it - it means that all we have is wrong. That all I've given you is wrong!" She pushed his hand flat against her warm belly. "I refuse to believe that you - we - this - is bad! I will not apologize for believing in you, Ben. Not ever!"

Ben never knew how to deal with the deep-seated discomfort her care for him caused. He had hoped that, someday, he would break through a few of his chains and be able to reciprocate, to give her what she so wanted and deserved. Now, he knew there would not be time. His whole life had been spent backing further and further into a corner, beaten down by those he once trusted until he became a raging, feral thing.

In the fleeting moments spent with Rey, he could only imagine a future growing old with her. By the end of that future, he was quite tamed - a different man. A better man.

Yet, he always knew it was a dream. He had done far too much and still not enough. At last, it was too late. Rey didn't deserve this end, but he did. No matter what she told him, he knew it to be true. He could bask in her light until his dying breath, but it would never be enough to redeem him.

Ben had no desire to explain all this too her now, nor did he have the strength to supply any equivalent words of passion, so he diverted her attention.

"You know, if you'd have kept it together back at the hangar, we wouldn't be in this mess."

He immediately regretted his words as the beautiful ire fell from her face. He tried more gently: "You should have listened to me, for once."

A deep rage moved within him as he remembered the string of unfortunate events that was yesterday. Well, all but one event. That had been the most singular moment of his life: he and Rey, flying away. They had left everything they'd built to crumble; years of fighting, toil, and pain. Thrown it all down like a saber on the floor. He'd realized in that moment that he had never known freedom, only because he knew it so poignantly then.

But, of course, it was over quickly. ...

The dogfight could have lasted forever. They were grossly outnumbered by X wings that refused to fire a fatal shot. When there was, at last, a severe blow delivered accidently (or on purpose) by a frustrated pilot, it rattled the TIE fighter and some sense into Ben. He looked at Rey, her eyes full of hope, as always, and knew she would never give up. For the first time, he knew what he had to do.

He called it. She had no say in the matter. And as they were towed to the rebel ship, he remained steady through her verbal and physical blows, convincing her of what she needed to do. By the time they had docked, against all odds, she had agreed.

It was a glorious fight, truly. He gave it everything, because he believed it to be his last. Rey was watching, safely in the arms of that scoundrel Poe. Ben hated this ending, and he was going to take as many rebel scum with him as he could to prove that point.

Considering their numbers, it was easy - for a while - dropping body after body that came his way. He was literally seeing red, so delicious was the dark. But then he took a shot to the shoulder, and then another, and the tables began to turn. He was submitting now to his fate. His body was still fighting - it wouldn't stop until he was stone dead - but his mind and spirit were ready.

He thought of Rey and reached for the Light.

But, then, something was wrong. She was screaming. It was primal and terrifying. He looked just in time to watch her rake through rebel after rebel, cast in the unearthly green glow of her blade. He knew this was wrong - that it would ruin everything. He even hated her for it. Yet, it would be such a sweet death, fighting alongside this woman. She was truly magnificent in her fury.

His eyes never left her until they saw no more. ...

"I know this was my fault," Rey spoke with sincerity. "I failed you."

"That's not what I -"

"After all the training, I still failed you. It won't happen again."

Her promise was delivered with an intensity that made him uneasy. Following a gut feeling, he examined her more closely and noticed the lightsaber strapped to her side.

"Rey," he probed cautiously, "how are you here?" God, her face was so easy to read. He would miss this, too. Right now, it was very sheepish and a little bit proud. "Is this the Bond?"

"No," she replied, suddenly meek under his prying gaze.

"Are you a doppelganger?" He had not known that she was capable of pulling something like this off, but he wasn't surprised. She'd surprised him too many times already.

"I don't know. Maybe," she answered, entirely unsure.

"No, you're not."

"What do you mean?"

"You've been holding my hand all this time. You're not a doppelganger."

"Oh."

"Then what are you?" She wasn't dark enough to create a Force Phantom - he was quite sure of that. He tried another approach. "How did you get here?"

Rey frowned. "I don't know, really. I just sort of closed my eyes, and I focused everything on you. … And then, I was here."

Could it be that this was something completely new? he wondered. Had she really developed an entirely new form of astral projection just by thinking about him? She never ceased to amaze him.

Then, suddenly, his intrigue was clouded with concern. He remembered Luke after Crait and how he had simply disappeared.

"How do you feel?" he pressed, gaining back his intensity for the first time this evening.

"I feel like. … like I'm here. Completely. I can sense my body back in my room, but it feels very far away." A sliver of fear entered her voice. "I - I'm not sure I could get back if I tried. … Ben, ever since we - well, you know - ever since then, I've felt a new energy inside me. It's this power - it's getting stronger every day. ... I don't know what it is, or if it's good or bad, but I can do things I don't understand. Things no one would understand."

Ben took that information and filed it away for another day, if he ever saw one.

"Rey," he did his best attempt at gentle yet authoritative. "you need to go."

She smiled in response. It was a smile dripping with mischief. "Do you really think I would project all this way in corporeal form just to give you a goodbye kiss?"

"No," he resigned.

"Now, when I scream, they'll come running. You do what you can with the Force, and I'll do the rest." She stood up, lit her saber and drove it into the wall, proving beyond doubt that the weapon was far more than a projection. Her grin widened almost madly in the glow of flying sparks.

"That's enough!" he commanded over the grinding noise of light against metal. "Put it away before they hear you."

"Seriously?" She shut off the blade and placed a hand on her hip while she stood over his rather pathetic form. "I know you're in pain, Ben, and you're tired. And I’m not sure I’ll be able to heal you. But you can pull it together for one last fight. The stakes have never been higher."

"It's not that, Rey," he said, though her words had renewed his awareness of his very real pain and fatigue. "They've been injecting me with something. To weaken the Force."

She frowned but seemed undaunted. "That's alright - you're strong. And they'll be so surprised when they see me that we'll practically be able to walk to the hangar bay."

Ben rubbed his bruised brow gingerly with one hand. "And what will you do with your actual body when we fly off into the sunset? Just leave it to rot?"

"No," she answered with feigned patience. "We'll get you off the ship, and I'll return to my body until you're feeling well enough to come rescue me." Her serious little mouth flickered a smile at that last part.

His eyebrow raised involuntarily. Even that hurt. Damn him. Damn her and her dreams and this whole plan.

"I'm assuming you told them that you held me captive and raped me or something," Rey continued.

"Yes.” He'd told them he had messed with her mind, too, for good measure. It had been quite the show.

"Good. There'll be no question of my insanity, then. All will be forgiven."

In all honesty, it wasn't a terrible plan. It could even work, maybe. And if they'd had nothing to lose, he might have jumped on her ship of optimism and ridden it all the way to paradise. But to him, at least, they had everything to lose. To him, there were only two things in this universe more important than his own life, and they were both in this cell with him. He had realized back on the TIE that he would not risk them. Not for anything.

And so, although it broke him a little to shut her down, he couldn't let her go on like this.

"The Resistance isn't what it used to be, Rey. You know that. Leia's dead. Chewie's gone. Hell, even your traitor friend and his tiny girlfriend took off."

She bristled. "Yes, I know."

"You don't fit here anymore," he pressed on more forcefully. "Who do you think will protect you? Poe? Yeah, that guy you sliced into at the hangar bay. Do you think he'll stick out his neck to protect you now?" Ben shook his head for emphasis. It was crucial that she understood this. "The tide is shifting, Rey. It's a new era. Ordinary people don't believe in us anymore. The Sith and the Jedi are dead. The heroes and the villains are dead! It's just us now. And what are we? We’re weapons. We're something to be feared, Rey. And if they fear you, it doesn't matter what used to be. They will dispose of you just the same."

Rey's buoyant demeanor had been visibly sinking throughout his speech. She sank all the way down to the floor beside him and didn't speak for a long time. Ben found it hard to look at her, like he was sitting next to someone he'd killed. When she finally did speak, her voice was flat and empty.

"So, you're not coming with me, then?"

"No. … I'm sorry."

"But it was a good plan," she whispered as a current of emotion began to breach her throat.

God, this might kill him before the rebels did.

"Yes, it was.” His own voice was beginning to crack. He reached out and pulled her close, breathing in her hair as she laid her cheek carefully against his chest. She smelled like the heat of a sun. He allowed himself to quietly meditate on that observation for a moment, refusing to allow the thought to creep in that he would never hold her like this again. There would be no urgency here. Only quiet perfection that could outlive an eternity.

"Ben. … What will I do?" He felt the hot streaks of her pain run down his chest and prayed to whatever creator may be for strength to carry him through this night. The flood dams had been opened, and there would be no more pretenses.

Ben sighed deeply and summoned his voice of authority while he stroked her hair.

"I'll tell you exactly what you’re going to do. Tomorrow, you're going to attend. You're going to apologize for your little 'episode' yesterday, and you will insist that you attend. And, when the time comes, you're going to stand there with everyone else and look avenged. You're not going to cry or scream or pull any of that nonsense you did in the hangar. You'll stand there and watch."

"I can't!"

Ben held her at arm’s length before him, gripping her as if she would otherwise break apart. He looked into her eyes with an intensity he knew scared her. But he had to be sure of this plan if he was going to arrive at any semblance of peace. Everything depended on this.

"You can, and you will!" He softened a bit when he felt her shaking. "You will because you have to. For you, for me, and for him."

Those last words seemed to summon something within Rey. It was as if, suddenly, she understood her higher purpose. She bit her lip to stifle the sobs and agonizingly rearranged her face into something resembling bravery. She was scared and determined and heartbreakingly beautiful. She was Rey, his hero.

"Will you do it?" he asked her, as a master would call on his pupil to attempt a new task.

"Yes. I will not fail you."

He brought her back to him and resumed stroking her hair, resolving to never let her go.

"When it's over, you'll lay low," he added. "No Force tricks, no meddling. Just a scared little Jedi mascot recovering from an ordeal. ... And for the love of God," he remembered, "don't let them know about any of your unusual abilities."

"And after that?"

"After that, you get away. When they let you out, go openly and quietly. ... Go to Ahch-To. Or Tatooine. It doesn't matter where. Just get away."

"Ok."

With all of that covered, he released his breath. He had never known a more capable person than Rey. And although he would never fully comprehend the Force and its motivations, he was faithful that it would preserve her. It had brought them together, after all.

This thought provided him some comfort, and he allowed himself to succumb to his exhaustion. He rested his head back and let his mind drift through every sensation that was Rey, here in his arms.

"How do you know it's a 'him'?" Her voice was soft, unexpected

"Hmm?"

She sat up and faced him. "Just a minute ago, you called it 'him'."

He returned her gaze and placed his hand back over her belly. There was a slight bulge there, so minute that only someone who knew what it was could detect it. But Ben knew every ridge and valley of her body most intimately from his fair-fortuned travels, and to him, it was an entirely new feature. Beneath that entrancing swell of pearlescent flesh, there was a glow that was his son.

"Can't you feel it?" he asked her.

"Feel what?"

"Our son… Our son, Rey." It felt so strange to say it.

Her face grew radiant as she hung on his words. "What - what do you feel?"

Hand still flush to her belly, he closed his eyes. When he began to speak, he seemed far away: "I feel light… darkness… violence. … and peace. But most of all, there is a balance. ... So much power, in perfect balance."

He opened his eyes, finding her alight and full of wonder. She was so young. And she would forever remain young to him.

"He's perfect, Rey. He's going to be so much like you. Nothing like me. But he'll have all my power and yours, and so much more. … He's going to change everything - I can feel it. End all of this. ... He's going to do everything we couldn't."

He read her face like a book as it turned from teary-eyed joy to somber remembrance. Then her eyes widened with bewilderment.

"I love you, Ben!" she cried out, with strangled desperation.

"I know," he said. Though he would never understand why.

And with that, he took her - there on the cold, hard floor. And despite his protesting body, he gave all that was left of himself to her, so that she had to bury her face into his neck to keep from crying out, until the very end, because he loved her. Against all odds, he loved her.

"I love you, too," he said as they held each other on the floor. She smiled at the vibrating rumble of his voice and planted another kiss on his swollen lips. Then she laid her head back on his chest and wound a small hand through his fingers.

"Are you afraid?" she asked him.

"Yes. But not for the reasons you think."

"I know."

"You do?"

"Yes. … Because I know you, Ben Solo." He couldn't help but smile at this, though she didn't see it.

"Well, then you must know that I will find a way back to you,” he said. “It doesn't matter if I die in the Dark or the Light. I will come back to you, if there's a way."

"I know.

He tried to conceal a shudder as he sighed, but it was no use. "And you must know that you have to go now."

"Yes," she barely whispered.

Raising them both up to kiss her forehead and press it against his own, feeling all of the things pass between them that he'd never thought he would be able to feel, he uttered the only prayer he knew: "May the Force be with you."

"And also with you.” Silent tears ran down to mingle with his. He brought her back to the floor, sincere in his conviction to never let her go.

She entwined a hand in his hair as she clung to him, as if it were the only comfort she had in the universe. He liked how safe she felt in his arms and had the untimely realization that he also liked being alive.

"How will I get back?" she finally asked.

"Close your eyes."

She did.

After a moment, he said, "Think of the future. … Think of our son, and of old things dying. … Think of Ahch-To and the changing tides. … Think of all that will come and is meant to be. … And then you'll be gone."