Heavily inspired by the video game Fallout series by Bethesda and the tv series The 100 by Jason Rothenberg.

Contains kind of grim survival / post-nuclear stuff. Will contain violence and language. May contain some adult scenes later.
(But it's not all grim and dark, I promise!)

Slow-burn Reylo romance, first time I've ever attempted such a big and ambitious project - so please stick with me! (And tell me what you think?)

Star Wars (c) Disney
(Cross-posted on AO3)

Radiation Exposure

Wind whistled around empty streets and the broken shells of buildings that had once been homes. Loose dust and dirt swirled through the forgotten houses, carried by the warm wind, and coated everything in a thick layer of brown. The few houses still standing were missing large sections of roof and walls, with some barely holding together and groaning occasionally under the strain. Others had either fallen down so long ago they were nothing but a pile of crumbled brick and wood, or a strange sight of a roof almost appearing to have squashed what was beneath it, where it had gone more recently; unmaintained structures finally giving in to the ravages of time.

The worst sight of all were the ugly piles of black rubble and charred wood, where the buildings had been reduced to nothing but unrecognisable ash and debris, usually blown up by raiders in a previous skirmish (sometimes you could still find empty casings nearby, or bullet holes in the ground.) But whole or broken, standing or fallen, the one thing uniting it all was the unmistakable coating of brown dust; a constant reminder of the state of the world.

The very planet itself was pretty much dead. But stubborn, tenacious humanity was still clinging onto whatever life they could squeeze out of it.

Everything had gone nuclear a few hundred years ago (nobody was ever sure of the date anymore) and the stories of how it happened were always different, spoken in hurried whispers in the night, as if the subject itself was some kind of taboo.

"Don't tell anyone you heard this from me, but it was definitely the miners - drilled right through to the planets core and released a huge nuclear explosion!"

"I heard it was a secret experiment gone wrong where they were trying to make a sun."

"It was divine retribution for our sins."

"Government conspiracy!"

"Terrorists!"

Rey scoffed aloud at the memories, attempting to wipe the sweat from her forehead and only succeeding in smearing brown dirt there instead. What did it matter why it happened? This was the state of the world now.

"You have to-" She began, gritting her teeth as she twisted a particularly stubborn piece of pipe, "- work with what you've got." She grunted as it came fee in her hand. It was the code she lived her life by, a motto to cling to when she was bone achingly lonely and starving in the dead of the night. Rey had been alone for a long time, with nothing but junk and nightmares to keep her company, but it was a solitude she had chosen for herself after the experiences she had faced. People weren't to be trusted beyond the exchange of goods or food. Those were the only things that mattered in the dying world anyway; something you could use or something you could eat.

Rey examined the pipe more closely, turning it over in her experienced hands to check for dents or weaknesses. It was a solid, good piece of metal. She placed it carefully in a small pile of other parts and bits nearby and took a moment to check out her haul for the day; a couple of fuses, some springs, the base of a kettle, various sizes of pipe, a few dusty cans of food, a broken oven bulb and some lengths of usable wire. While she contemplated one last search, just to be thorough, the house groaned and creaked loudly in the silence and Rey decided to quit while she was ahead, gathering up the items and putting them into a large canvas bag slung over her shoulder. It clanked as she straightened up and she adjusted the strap to be more comfortable, wiping her forehead again with the back of her hand. Judging by the colour of the sky, that she could see through a gaping hole in the roof, there was only about an hour of daylight left anyway, so she was cutting it fine for getting back before dark. There were things far worse than raiders prowling around the wastelands after the sun had set.

Rey made her way carefully across the dirty room that had once been the kitchen, climbing over fallen ceiling beams and the remains of the appliances she had picked apart, making sure to retrieve her staff from where she had propped it up earlier. The feel of the metal was comforting and familiar and Rey used it to steady herself as she climbed over the uneven surface. She had turned an old metal curtain pole into her weapon some years ago, when she'd found it in pristine condition still attached to a wall above a rare intact window frame. It had been easy enough to remove (providing the added bonus of the un-rusted screws holding it in place) and hammer dents into the middle, to make it thinner and create a surface with grip, then she flattened the hollow ends down into paddle shapes on both ends, making it solid enough to cause damage, but still light enough for her to carry and use. She had a quick mind and a talent for scavenging anything that could be used, fixed or turned into something else, finding treasures in places that many would consider picked clean. She was lucky in that scavenging came quite naturally, but she knew she would never have gotten as skilled if it wasn't for her years of harsh experience, and her hands still bore the many scars from scratches of scrap metal and burns from her early attempts at rewiring. Now she could take a radio apart and put it back together in her sleep, and knew exactly which parts from other appliances were the most valuable for use in other things, or could be traded on for food. But it made Rey thoroughly sick to admit that her early life had well equipped her for living alone in the nuclear wasteland, and she always avoided the cold traitorous thoughts lingering like frost in the back of her mind; maybe it had all been worth it? Maybe it had been a good thing all along?

Rey shook herself free of the memories threatening to surface and instead focused on navigating herself out of the rest of the broken house. She was in the entrance hall now, the kitchen she had just come from behind her, an empty doorway to the living room in front (containing only a rotten sofa and the dusty remains of what she'd left behind of the television she had enjoyed taking apart) but she let her gaze linger on a room further down the hall. The door was at an odd angle in the frame, as if it was only being held in place by being propped up by something on the other side, and though the paint had almost completely blistered and peeled she could just about make out flowers painted onto the old wood.

It could only be a bedroom.

She'd come across them before from time to time, where a room was barricaded from the other side, and usually ignored them. It felt wrong somehow to tear down the last defences someone had made for their lives, even if they were long gone. Of course there were times she came across obvious signs of someone else having no moral compass like her own, and the remains of a wardrobe or chest of drawers would be carelessly strewn across the room where a raider of scavenger had forced their way past a barricaded door. But there had been a time when Rey was so desperately hungry that she went back to a house she had previously searched, for anything she might have missed, and had ended up doing exactly the same. Though she'd never stopped regretting it.

Back then she'd only just started making it on her own, and food seemed to be a constant, serious issue. She went back to a remote farmhouse she'd already searched, knowing the bedroom had been the only room she left untouched. With a considerable amount of effort Rey had pushed against the pile of junk holding the door shut and stumbled into the room when it finally gave way, as an old wardrobe fell over and smashed against the floor. Dust that hadn't been disturbed for a lifetime dispersed into the air like a brown fog and Rey had tugged the scarf around her mouth and nose higher to keep it out. As the haze settled she noticed the bed. She was no stranger to death, and had seen bodies both old and new enough times to be largely unaffected by it - the world was harsh and death was something you had to get used to - but the skeletons on that bed became a sight that burned itself into her memory. Even now she could see them in her mind; two skeletons so old time had robbed them of flesh, curled around each other, heads perfectly in line, and a rusty gun on the mattress still pointed at the temple of the first. Both sets of skeletal hands were still clutched around the pistol, and with mounting horror sending sheets of ice down her veins, Rey noticed the dark brown stain on the rotting sheets, darkest where their heads lay together.

She'd seen dead bodies, but that's all they ever were, those two had had a life, been in love, died together... It made them seem too human. And she had opened their tomb, become a grave robber, and disturbed that place they had made for themselves...

Rey gripped her hands by her side, blinking away shameful tears before they could fall, and swallowing the bile rising in her throat from the memory. With a heavy heart she turned away from the bedroom door.

Never again.

She adjusted the bag on her shoulder once more and pushed her staff through a sturdy hole in the canvas strap, holding it in place and leaving her hands free. Carefully she found foot and hand holes in the broken wall beside the front door, pulling herself up with ease, despite the bag of parts around her shoulders. The front entrance to the house was blocked by a large piece of the roof that had fallen down, taking some of the wall with it, so she had found it to be a good one for searching, since it was difficult to access by raiders or opportunistic scavengers. She'd been climbing in and out of wrecks for so many years that she rarely found one she couldn't get into somehow, and was soon lowering herself down to the ground outside of the house. Rey wiped her dusty hands on her already dirty brown tunic as she took a step back and looked around one last time. The rest of the houses in the tiny settlement had either been totally picked clean, fallen down or blown apart, so she had no reason to return again.

It was always a little melancholy to walk out of a place knowing it was only going to fall more into ruin. People had lived there once, and they'd all had their own stories, families, friends... Rey turned away and began the long walk home. Now there was nothing but dust and the sound of the wind as it blew through the dead space.

The sun cast long dark shadows as it set, and Rey gripped her staff tightly as she walked along broken tarmac. Normally she wouldn't walk on roads, as it was so exposed and the occasional rusty wrecks of cars were easy for raiders or other scum to hide behind, but she was walking along one today in an effort to get back as quickly as possible. It was a small road and didn't lead anywhere important, so she was mostly confident she wouldn't meet with any trouble. Roads were like a beacon of the old humanity that a lot of people found hard to resist, and they'd walk the uneven and cracked surfaces (broken were weeds were beginning to poke through) unaware of how much danger they were in. Especially on the big roads. She usually picked her way across the wasteland scrubs, her brown clothing making her difficult to see, though she always had to be wary of crunching dry grass under her boots.

Rey was almost home when a snarl and a screech ripped through the silence. She swung her staff up to grip it in both hands, adopting an instant defensive stance, then saw a flash of ginger and white dart off to her left between overgrown yellow grass. There was a hiss and a yelp and her heart leapt into her throat as she took off to race after the sound, bag bumping uncomfortably against her legs. She flung the canvas bag to the ground with a loud clank as she heard another high pitched screech, speed picking up as she ran unhindered.

"BB-8!" She yelled, as she came across the owners of the noise. A fluffy ginger and white cat was crouched low to the ground, ears flat against its head, as it hissed at a skinny dog, bones clearly visible through its skin. The dog looked awful; its fur had fallen away in patches to reveal blistered and shiny skin beneath, one of its ears had been torn to shreds and it appeared to have a second partially grown tail at the base of the first. Rey wasted no time in moving forward, steady and cautiously now she was in biting distance of the dog, to position herself defensively in front of BB-8. The dog let out a low growl, its green eyes glazed with a madness she recognised, and there was a heartbeat where neither animal nor human moved. Then the dog lunged. She twisted her body at the waist as the creature launched itself at her, putting momentum and her own body strength into the staff's swing. It was a risky move, putting so much force behind the commitment of one heavy blow, but the metal connected with a sickening crunch and the lifeless body thumped to the ground.

She let out a steady breath.

Finally Rey turned to the cat behind her, crouching down and putting her hand out in a friendly gesture.

"Are you okay BB-8? You're not hurt are you? Come here, come on, it's just me." Rey spoke in a hushed tone filled with concern as the large cat stepped tentatively forward, recognising the voice, and touched his pink nose to her hand. "Good boy, good boy." She crooned, stroking his fluffy fur over and over. There was no blood or obvious signs of discomfort at her touch, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She liked animals far more than she liked humans, and BB-8 was particularly special to her.

Straightening up Rey took a look at the dead creature, feeling a small twinge of pity and guilt. She didn't like killing anything, especially animals, but these sorts of dogs were becoming a problem. Their fur fell out in clumps as their skin became riddled with sores, there was usually strange extra limb growth, they went half mad on the pain of it all, and their eyes became a dull green colour. All the effects of terrible radiation poisoning that was only getting worse, especially as they continued to breed in large numbers and pass their strange mutations to their offspring. It was a kindness to put them down, she told herself.

"Come on, let's go home." Rey said with warmth to the cat now winding itself around her legs, as if sensing her discomfort. He trilled excitedly at the word home and she let herself smile slightly, he was the most good natured thing she had come across in the wastelands and she struggled to believe the same cat had just been hissing and screeching in defence of his life.

With barely any effort she picked the dog up, pushing away her disgust, and cringed at its lightness. Poor creature. The meat was full of radiation, but if she cooked it for long enough it wouldn't be quite so bad. Food was not something you could afford to be picky about if you wanted to survive. Rey walked back to her abandoned bag, still sat where she had thrown it, and heaved it onto a shoulder, putting her staff back in its holding place through the hole in the canvas.

BB-8 trotted at her heels for the rest of the short journey home, occasionally wandering off to smell something and coming back with his fluffy white tail held high. He trilled again as the broken down coach came into view, and he raced ahead before disappearing from view when he squeezed himself through the secret entrance. The sun had almost completely set now and Rey was relieved to be back, her mood brightening the closer she got to the place she called home.

The coach was a double decked luxury vehicle, originally designed to take people to destinations in comfort and style. The road it had stopped near was small and the only places of any interest for miles was a gas station (that Rey avoided because it had been taken over by raiders) and the tiny cluster of houses she had just come from. She spent many hours making up stories of how it came to stop in the middle of nowhere; maybe it had been stolen? Run out of gas? Maybe the driver had stopped and been killed? It was a curiosity she would never be able to satisfy, but it was strange that a big fancy coach like that should be seemingly parked up between some bare, dead tree trunks a little way off such an obscure route.

It was just far enough away from the road that it wasn't too easily noticeable, the dark colour of the fading paintwork matching the dead wood it stood between, and Rey had been lucky to spot it when she first came this way many years ago.

She put the dog on the ground as approached the tree nearest the coach, climbing up its dead bark without even concentrating by using the same route she always did. Foot goes here, hand goes there... and dropped herself onto the roof of the tall vehicle. Where there used to be a glass window in the centre of the roof, to let light inside, was now a metal panel that she pushed on one side until it gave way, slipping down onto a chair she had placed beneath the opening. BB-8 was already inside, curled up on a blanket on another of the soft coach seats, and Rey stroked a hand over his fur as she passed him.

Most of the seats she had left where they were, but some she had unscrewed and moved; one was below her secret entrance, a group of them pushed together formed a bed and another was for BB-8. Bits of junk, parts and wire covered almost every other chair and there was a large space on the floor where a radio that had been taken apart was laid out next to three complete ones, along with a pile of tools and other odd bits of metal. The windows were all intact, but wooden boards had been placed along the bottom half of each one on the top deck, so from the ground it would be impossible to see inside, though Rey was tall enough to see above the wood from her perspective - giving her a good view of her surroundings while concealing her. It was important that nobody saw the treasures she had collected, or noticed anyone living there.

Rey put her bag down near the radios and continued to the small steps leading to the lower deck of the coach. She descended into complete darkness as the windows and the glass door on the bottom deck were entirely boarded over, blocking out any natural light from the moon. It also meant she couldn't see outside from the lower deck, so she didn't like to stay down there too long. She shivered slightly, the lower deck was always a little chilly, and moved down the centre aisle to flick a switch on a car battery, making a single light bulb illuminate the darkness. It had taken her a long time to adapt a car battery to power a light bulb, and she was always conscious about not using it for too long to limit the amount of power she had to use - car batteries and bulbs in good condition were getting harder to scavenge. It wasn't a strong light, but it was enough, and she'd done the same on the deck above, always thankful for her ingenuity. She moved to the very back of the coach to a huge cluster of bottles, jars and cans all containing food or water, and took a huge gulp from one of the bottles. She cringed at the taste but took another gulp anyway, needing it to quench her thirst after her long day. Water had to be boiled and bottled every few days, and she took a look at the water left before feeling a small frown tug at her lips, she needed to get some more tomorrow.

The best thing about the luxury coach was the tiny kitchen at the back, and Rey had taken most of it apart immediately, getting some great parts from the oven, the microwave and the tiny fridge, and the utensils were always useful too. She took a large sharp knife from a drawer and turned off the little light on her way back out and up the stairs.

BB-8 was still curled up on his blanket and Rey emptied the rest of the water bottle into his water dish nearby, watching his whiskers twitch at the sound.

She used her staff to prop open the metal hatch and climbed up and out of her little home, while the knife flashed in the moonlight, safely stored in her belt, as she descended the tree. The dog was still where the she left it and she picked it up, taking it to a little river nearby to start the grim but inescapable task of skinning and dividing up the meat.

After Rey had cooked the meat on a little fire just outside the coach, behind its bulk to shield it from notice, she took it back inside to eat. BB-8 had a small piece, since Rey was never quite sure if a cat should eat irradiated dog meat, and he always seemed to feed himself when he wondered off anyway, and she crumbled a little of her precious radiation poisoning tablets in his portion too. The tablets were widely available just after The Event, for survivors struggling with the effects radiation ravaged on the human body, but after the collapse of society and mass production they were much harder to come by. She didn't know if they were fit for animal consumption either, but she gave a small dose to her cat every week just in case. She hadn't felt any of the effects of radiation poisoning herself, so kept up the weekly dosages to ensure she wouldn't start. The stories she'd heard as a child about the effects of over exposure to radiation were enough to keep her awake at night.

She yawned and tightened the buns at the back of her hair, a style she had always worn that was both practical and identifying, if anyone should ever need to recognise her from her past, and picked up a screwdriver to mark a notch into a section of coach wall that was already covered in similar notches.

Another day over. Just surviving was what kept her going, but she often wondered if there was any other sort of satisfaction to be gained from life. Was this all there was? Notches on a wall, walking her feet raw across dead irradiated wasteland for bits of scrap and junk, eating dogs and just... living. It was preferable to how she had been forced to live her life before, but did that make it good?

Rey lay down on her makeshift bed and closed her eyes.

It was only a few hours before Rey heard the gunfire.

She sat up instantly and grabbed her staff, racing to one of the windows. She could just about see some flashes in the distance, but the gunfire was echoing loudly. BB-8 was already awake, sitting up perfectly straight with his ears flicking at each bang, eyes wide and searching. She moved to comfort the cat by scratching his chin and felt some of the tension leave his body. Going towards the sounds of fighting seemed crazy, but she had to check what was going on so close to her home, and had to protect it if she had to. Guns were rusty and crudely put together these days, and ammo wasn't too easy to come by, so she wasn't too concerned. She was quick, small and her staff was a silent weapon, so she could stay hidden if she needed to.

"I'll be back soon." She whispered into the neck fur of her only friend, giving him a last scratch behind his ears as she tore away and made her way to the secret hatch. Once outside, she grabbed the staff propping it open and pulled it up with her. The gunfire was sporadic and loud, so they weren't too far away, and she could hear snippets of yelling.

Rey crouched low, pulled her scarf up over her mouth, and set off in the direction of the noise.

She stuck to the shadows of dead tree trunks, and stayed low in the long yellow scrubs, sweeping soundlessly across the ground. As she got nearer the main source of the noise she realised she could start making out some of the yelling:

"- and we already told you lot we ain't joinin'!"

"- First Order can fuck off!"

First Order? Rey wondered, still moving closer. She hadn't even noticed how far away from the coach she had strayed until she realised she could just about make out the shape of the gas station that she knew was a raider den, and the small shadows of people outside it illuminated briefly by the flash of more gunfire. She squinted and moved forward cautiously, not wanting to alert anyone to her presence, unable to believe that a group of people were taking on the raiders. She stopped a safe distance away and noticed the ground at the entrance to the shabby building was littered with bodies, with only a few leather clad raiders still standing. The group of people shooting at them were across the road hiding behind strange shields made out of metal, and they made short work of the last few left alive, all the noise suddenly fading away as the gunfire ceased.

The silence was almost disturbing.

She looked again at the attackers, feeling a strange sense of dread settle in her stomach as she noticed the masks on all of their faces. These were not good people. It was unsettling to see that every one of them had their faces covered by gas masks, of all shapes and sizes - some covered the entirety of the face, others only had the goggles and mouth piece. Rey shuddered, not understanding this cold and terrible feeling washing over her, and attempted to back away.

But she backed into something solid.

"Don't move." Came an impossibly deep and almost metallic voice at her ear.