Begin, End, Begin Again (I'll Come Back)
Chapter One: At First It Was A Drop...
At first it was a drop, a strange sense of familiarity that rippled away, but it was there, absorbed into that wide ocean, hiding itself away in the tumultuous sea of his soul. He'd built up a fortress with formidable walls, to block the onslaught of tidal waves trying to break through, attempting to drown him in emotions he hasn't felt since he was a child. Since he begged them with weepy eyes not to be sent away. Since he trembled with fear, grappling to understand why, but he was sinking, drowning in confusion, and nobody saw him. Nobody dived in to save him as he flailed and sputtered. His need for a maternal embrace was not satisfied by the rushed hugs and kisses, and the broken emptiness that settled into his far too young eyes, eventually succumbed to weary resignation, and his will to fight gradually faded, as the tide finally pulled him under.
So, with an expressionless face, a monotone lilt in his voice, he bid his goodbyes and pretended he was brave. It was this false bravery that would lace the looming foundation for a citadel of isolation that would one day hold him captive. And as they let go of his hand and gave him up, his uncle took the other, and his little bones shuddered as an ominous draft stirred deep within. Once they were out of sight, and his uncle wasn't paying any mind to him, he caved, just for a little while, and let the sadness spring up one more time. At first it was a drop.
She's five and she's cold, and hungry, and thirsty. She doesn't know where she is, it's so dark and the shadows are scary, and she can't go to sleep because the monsters in her nightmares will eat her. They left her, and she was afraid and confused. Why did they leave her? She remembers screaming, come back, no, come back! But no one came. It's just her now. She's all alone. And because she's five, and doesn't understand what abandoned means, she calls out for her parents between pitiful sobs.
He's fifteen and alone. And now he's startled and sweating, because nobody was there, save himself, when he went to sleep. He instinctively grabs for his lightsaber as he sits up, slowly scanning the room as his eyes adjust in the dark, because the only light seeping through is the pale blue moon. "Who's there?" He tries to sound tough and intimidating, but he's fifteen, and not quite done with puberty, and he silently curses when his voice inevitably cracks.
She shrieks, alarmed, and begins to cry harder. He snaps his head and… there. In the far corner. She's there and he sees her. He relaxes a bit. She's all curled up and tense. They stare at each other for ... one... two... three... the seconds pass by. He feels the fear gripping at him through her little eyes, and remembering himself, he carefully sets down the lightsaber. She's paralyzed and holding her breath as long as her five-year-old lungs can, but he slowly gets up from the bed and approaches her.
He sits down on his knees and holds out his hand, never taking his eyes off of her, as she trembles, then flinches instinctively, because raised hands aren't kind. "I'm Ben." He offers a lop-sided grin. "What's your name?" His voice is so gentle and encouraging, she wasn't sure what she expected, but he's still holding out his hand and she suddenly feels safe. But, she still warily eyes him as she slowly slips her tiny fingers into his palm. She's freezing, he feels it, but he's toasty warm and she feels it too. She knows she can trust him, only maker knows why, so she responds timidly, "I'm Rey", and he almost didn't catch it, because her whisper is so quiet.
"That's such a pretty name… Rey." He can feel her despair and she instantly steals a piece of his heart, so he squeezes her hand gently in his, reaches out with the other and wipes away the tears on her cheeks with the pad of his thumb. "Why are you crying, sweetheart?" He gets that from his dad… sweetheart; it's a good memory, they're so few and far between, and his mom was always sweetheart, so, now… he decides she's sweetheart too.
It doesn't feel odd to simply ask her why she's crying, instead of 'Where did you come from?' or, 'Why are you here?' In fact, it never even crosses his mind, that this isn't even remotely normal, because his only concern right now is if she's hurt and how to fix whatever's wrong. She's been looking around the room, though, and now, she's even more terrified and properly puzzled, because she REALLY doesn't know where she is anymore. It's not where she was when she shrank into the first corner she could find, but she's afraid to say anything, because this place seems a lot nicer than the other one. And it could be a dream, but she'll ruin it if she tells him this is somewhere it wasn't a few minutes ago, and he might send her back to where she didn't want to be in the first place. So she leaves out that part, because she's not sure she understands what she just explained in her head anyways.
"I… I don't know… I don't know where I am." She stutters as her wet lashes flutter, and she thinks she'll start to cry again. "They told me" … deep breath … "they said I had to stay here… I want them to come back." And the tears pour like rain and she's shivering now, because she's sad and she's cold and her little body aches all over. He's stabbed through the heart, and its pure instinct, his reaction, to gather her in his arms, and now she's blubbering into his shoulder, and he's rubbing her back and her icy limbs, and, "Shhh, it's ok… that's ok… I've got you."
Once her red, puffy eyes have stopped leaking, and she's just hiccups and sniffles now, so he stands, grasps her hand, and gently leads her to the bed. It's more like a cot, but she thinks to herself that, it's more comfy than a mat on the dirt floor. He gets her settled, legs crossed, hands in her lap, head hung low, so he can't see her eyes. He wraps her in a blanket and plops down on the floor, leaning in next to her, elbow resting on the bed, hand supporting his cocked head. Her stomach growls, and he feels her hunger pangs, she clutches her tummy with criss-crossed arms, and her face isn't quite a grimace, just a scrunchy nose and a sour pucker. He smiles and asks, "Are you hungry?" She nods, so he gets up again, and walks towards the door. She straightens up, eyes darting towards him in a panic, because he's leaving her by herself, and he feels her anxiety.
It's strange, he seems to feel everything she feels, and he wonders is she feels it too. He's quick to reassure her, "It's ok, I'll be right back, I promise." She's still not convinced, so he comes back and kneels in front of her, so they can be face to face. "Do you like games?" She faintly dips her head, he smiles and takes it as a yes. It makes her feel more at ease when he's smiling. "Let's play one now. Ok? Just close your eyes, count all the way to twenty... but count real slow, ok? And when you open them, I'll have a surprise for you." He waits patiently as she thinks about it, she's hesitating and holding her breath, but he's just smiling with soft eyes, "it's ok, it'll be like magic", then, trust me, I won't leave, but he said that inside his head, and she's sure she just imagining it, but she swore she heard it too, and all she does is blink.
He winks at her, playfully, like he's got a secret, and she feels it's ok, so she squeezes her eyes shut and lifts her hands to her face, just for good measure, and then, "One… two… three…" He's out the door, then slips back in, right on time for, "Eighteen… nineteen… twenty". Her eyes open wide now, and she's looking at him like he's the most magical, amazing person in the galaxy, because he's got a handful of berries and a cup of water, and that silly grin might just be her new favorite thing; actually, her only favorite thing, ever. "I told you I'd be back."
He marvels at her as she takes each bite, one at a time, because she's reveling in the way they cool her throat, how they taste, and berries are squishy, they gush in her mouth, and it dribbles down her chin, and her hands are dyed and sticky, but she doesn't care one bit, because she's never had fresh anything before. She sips the water like it's sweeter than honey, and he listens to her babble with berries in her mouth, between sloppy gulps. That silly grin's still stuck to his face. She chatters about stars, and ships, and sometimes she dreams about islands she wants to travel to far, far away.
He makes shadow puppets for her as she licks her fingers clean, then he traces little drawings on the floor, and she cackles, politely informing him that his stick figures look like they got run over by a speeder… 72 and a half times... because she likes random numbers that don't make sense. He feigns offense when she says he should just draw circles instead, since you have to be really, really bad to mess those up. She giggles again, because he's sticking his tongue out at her, crossing his eyes, and then she makes faces right back, and now they're competing to see who can stick their tongue out the farthest.
He finally gets up and nudges her shoulder with his elbow, because she's been dangling off the edge of the bed while he was sprawled out on the floor. But her sleepy eyes are flittering now, and he's yawned at least once every 38 and two-fifth seconds. So, now she moves over, scooting back to lean into the wall, wrapped up in his blanket like a cocoon, and he settles in right next to her. But before he has the chance to really stretch out and get comfortable, she's fast asleep against his shoulder, and he doesn't dare move because she's warm, safe, peaceful, and no longer sad. So, he lets his head fall back - there's a soft thud when he meets the wall - and he pulls another blanket over them both, since it was laying next to him. It's more for her than him, just to make sure she's bundled up well, because he has no clue where she came from or who she is, but she's five and he's fifteen, and she's already stolen a piece of his heart. He closes his eyes and sits there all night.