A/N: And another.
Don't hold your breath, waiting for me/
'Cause I may never come home
99 Elliot Moss
My Blood Will Make You Clean
He is almost asleep, caught somewhere on the brink of a dream, when he feels it. There are stars behind his eyes. A slow-moving sun rises above an expansive body of water, gradually setting the whole scene on fire. She is there too, he thinks. In shadow form. Curled on the ground at his feet. He wants so badly to reach out to her, but he reels in his foolish urges. Then there is a pain, so intense and sudden it jerks him from his bed. The glittery lake disappears, and he is once more in his cold, dry room. It is centred at his right side, the pain. Between his ribs it feels as though someone has torn a hole in his flesh. He clatters to the floor in a tangle of discarded clothes and bedsheets, clutching at his wound.
What has happened?
He scrambles, separating his sweat-ridden body from the mess of sheets, searching for any sign of harm, any laceration or mar. He finds nothing. His skin is clear; the only marks are old and sewn together with scar tissue. But still, he is in agony. Gritting his teeth, he presses shaking fingers against his ribcage and is helpless to swallow the pathetic yelp that spills from his throat when his side begins to burn and throb. Truly, he feels as though someone has snuck inside his room and stabbed him with a lightsaber. Only, of course, there is no evidence of any such attack. All he has is a feeling.
He hears it then. A gargled cry. He has heard the noise before, and he is instantly on alert as the scenery around him changes. He is pulled from his room by the neck, landing on a darkened, deserted road. Looking around frantically, he does not recognise his surroundings. There are trees of brilliant green on all sides, lining the road, illuminated partially by a round, full moon. Ren strains his ears, listening for any sound of an engine, but does not hear a thing.
She is there again. No longer a shadow, her body lies on the ground, curved at an odd angle. She looks like a sleeping babe. He would have assumed she was asleep if it weren't for the soft, muffled whimpers he hears that can only be coming from her. All at once, the severe, blistering ache returns and it is all he can do to remain upright. Below him, the girl retches. The horrible noise forces Ren back, and as his bare feet crunch dirt and stones, the girl startles, lifting herself half off the ground.
Their eyes meet. Flashes of agony snake through him and he can stay standing no more. He collapses onto his knees in front of her.
Once, he thought of himself as strong. Powerful. He felt he could one day rule the galaxy—fulfil the plans of his grandfather. But this is evidence enough that he is far weaker than he ever assumed. This bond has sucked the energy from his bones bit by bit. Soon, he will be nothing more than a shell of his former self.
He stares at the girl. Anger flickers over her face, mixing with the pain. One of her hands covers her right side. It is covered in blood. He can smell the stuff. A metallic scent fills the air and makes him want to gag.
"What happened?" He is surprised to hear his own voice shaking out the question, but it is gone before he can swallow it.
Rey breathes in sharply through her nose. "Someone attacked me. They came out of nowhere and got me with a blaster," she sputters. Her eyes fall closed. A thin line appears above her nose. "They tried to take my things, but I don't know why they did this." She looks down at where her hand rests.
The bond between him and Rey has been quiet these past months. He has fought against it each time he has felt it trying to take him. Seeing her—her, the one who turned him away, leaving him on his knees like some piteous animal—has been the last thing he wants. He imagines Rey has been doing the same thing, otherwise he is sure they would have found themselves face to face more frequently. When the blaster got her, she must have wholly let down her guard. The Force took advantage of her predicament and brought him to her.
Somehow, the bond has grown stronger despite them working together to destroy it.
An inexplicable shot of fury contaminates Ren's bloodstream as he watches Rey's pale face crumble. Her bottom lip, which blends into her skin, juts out and her jaw begins shaking. Shock. It must be setting in. He looks around Rey and sees a wet puddle on the black road. Touching it, he pulls his hand away and finds his fingertips bathed in red. She's bleeding out quick. The freckles dotted on her forehead and nose are almost the same colour as the inky sky above.
Rey starts whimpering again. "It hurts, Ben," she groans, her half-open eyes finding him. There is no more anger to her; she is all fear now.
Ren's mouth slips open at her usage of his given name. He doesn't know why, but he must help her. He can't understand it. He has never been able to. This is the not the first time she has called him by that name and he should be adding to her pain, not desperate to relieve her of it. But the word sounds . . . almost inviting, even when shrouded in Rey's anguish.
"Please," she says.
That word. It conjures up bitter memories in his head. He sees her abandoning him. Time and time again she has turned him away, refused his feeble pleas. And yet—
—Ren crawls towards Rey's frail body and kneels before her. She looks up at him, a blankness to her stare. None of that familiar light shines. Slowly, he reaches out to her. Inch by inch his hand extends closer and closer until the tips of his clean fingers glide across her cheek.
God, she is frozen. Worry slithering inside of him, he cups her face and brings her head to rest on his chest. Her cold flesh, damp with chilled sweat, sets his skin ablaze with goosebumps, but he thinks the discomfort is worth it if his own body heat can in any way help.
"What do I do?" he asks. What a stupid question, but she is lying limp in his arms and he has never felt so much . . . concern for anyone in his life. It must be a side effect of the bond; the Force is still tethering them, desperate to keep them locked in some unbreakable, undetectable chain. His eyes catch the tear in her blood-soaked shirt and he asks again, quieter this time, more frustrated, "What do I do?"
"Help me." Her voice is barely audible.
There are tears slipping past Rey's eyelashes and moving into her hair. Ren gathers the wetness on his thumb. He is used to seeing her cry. Most instances he is the one causing her eyes to well, but this time he is nothing more than a bystander, and he finds himself wishing he could track down whoever hurt her, whoever is making her cry out of fear and pain, and kill them. Oh, he would make it a slow and tortuous death.
"I will," he promises. "I swear it, I will help."
He is trapped between the light and the dark. They are battling constantly inside of him even now, though it appears the light is winning tonight. Tomorrow may bring a different story, but Rey, who, Ren knows, suffers from the same afflictions, is tugging at the goodness within him, lugging it to the surface.
His own side still pulsing, Ren manoeuvres his arms underneath Rey's heavy body. Cradling her neck and the insides of her knees, he flexes his muscles and lifts the girl off of the ground with difficulty. With the world around them shaded in darkness, he has no way of knowing where they are. Without that knowledge it will be challenging to find anywhere with a medical bay. But he presses onward, even while his fictitious wound smarts as he walks. He holds the girl close to him, reaching through the Force to try finding any hint of life through the forest.
It frightens him that he can hardly sense Rey.
Simultaneously it angers him. Both because she does not, in any capacity, deserve this, and because he is sick and tired of this bond. Moreover, he is sick and tired of craving this bond. Is he not a most powerful Supreme Leader of the First Order? Is he not the one person in this entire galaxy attempting to complete the plans of his grandfather? Why, then, must he be impaired and degraded by this alliance?
He should leave her. That is what he should do. He should drop her half-dead body to the road and race back to his rooms. Perhaps when the Force takes her soul it will finally cut their ties and he will be free of her.
He stops walking. Staring down at the grease-painted girl, he tries finding the darkness within him. But before he can search too long, Rey makes a gargled mewl and Ren must watch with wide eyes as a line of blood passes through her lips.
No. He cannot abandon her to die on this strange planet alone. Whether it is the Force or his own free will, he isn't sure. But he doesn't care. He must, must, find assistance.
Weak, calls a voice in his head. It is quiet, though. Distant.
He ignores its taunts and continues walking, his legs moving faster than they ever have.
Several minutes later, he senses movement in the near distance. Rey's body has grown considerably more cold and limp, but, if he focuses hard he can just barely feel her. There is no more fear in her; there is nothing now. He is running out of time. Buckling down, Ren speeds his way along the empty road, praying to the light, begging like a fool for Rey not to die. Not like this. Not while he is trying so fiercely to rescue her.
"You're going to be okay," he vows, short of breath, as he rounds a corner and spots an eating establishment of some kind. There is music coming from inside the rundown building, and he can hear drunken laughter.
Racing onward, he stops short of reaching the doors. Frantic, Ren kneels, gently placing Rey on the soft grass in front of the doors, his heart collapsing bit by bit as her head lolls away from him. He turns it carefully, noticing more blood splattered on her chin. Her eyes are closed. Her breathing is past shallow—it is practically nonexistent.
There is no time to lose.
Swallowing his pride and his fears, he begins shouting. "Help! I need help! Someone, please! She's been hit with a blaster. I don't think she has much time left." His voice cracks as he reaches the last word, and he looks over her broken body, wondering if this will be the final time they see each other.
He does not want it to be.
Footfalls near the two bound individuals. "You're safe," Ren says, a wash of relief soaking his blood-sodden skin.
He wants to stay with her. To protect her, help her. He is worried whatever medical facility these creatures take her to won't do enough to mend the wound, and she will die as a result. But they surely know his name on this planet and him remaining at her side wouldn't be a good idea for either of them. So, Ren departs the scene, feeling the bond lift him once more by his neck, the image of Rey, her chest moving with the smallest of breaths and her body covered in red, sticky liquid, plastered to the wall upon his return to his empty, black room.
Sleep has almost captured him when he feels her presence. He sits up in his bed to find her standing above him. For one silly moment, he thinks this is her ghost, and his throat itches with sorrow before he recognises the solidness of her body. He coughs, ridding himself of the emotion.
They watch each other carefully. It takes him almost a full minute to realise his lungs have stopped working as he takes in her living, breathing form. She is dressed in what looks like a white, front-buttoned medical gown, but there is rich colour to her face and a sparkling light to her eyes. Unlike last time she found him half-clothed, she does not seem so offended. If anything, she is fascinated by the bare flesh on display. Her eyes follow each line and curve before returning to meet his.
What does he say to her?
"Thank you." It is Rey who speaks first, and her clear voice strikes his heart directly.
"I"—he begins, but he has nothing to say in response.
"You saved my life," she states, stepping forward. Very, very slowly, she reaches out to him and places her warm hands on his shoulders. He tilts his head up, an ache blooming in his stomach. "I have to ask . . . why did you do it? You could have left me to die there. Why did you not?"
Ren parts his mouth. His eyebrows bend and move above his nose.
He could easily lie to her. He could tell her the Force would not have it any other way. He saved her against his own will.
But what is the point of lies now?
"There," he begins, pausing briefly to search for the right words, "there is light still in me, and when the Force brought me to your side, that part of me that I had kept hidden for so many years burst forth. I had to help you. There was no other choice."
He is almost sick with aggravation at his admission to the girl, but that all melts away when one of Rey's hands slips beneath his chin. Her face is alight with joy and gratitude. In response, his mouth twitches to one side. An almost smile.
"Thank you, Ben," she says, and he does not mind her calling him by his true name.
They remain like this for moments longer, neither one moving or making any sound. She has won this battle and he will allow her to stay here in celebration.
"You are better?" he asks when she removes her hands. He wants to grab at them, but he ignores the impulse.
Rey nods. "I am. Almost fully healed," she says, popping a single button midway down her gown and moving the fabric to one side. There is a pink, rugged mark on her pale skin.
Before he can fight to restrain himself, Ren extends his arm and touches the scar. Rey jolts slightly, but does not move away or ask him to stop. Her skin is on fire. It burns through his fingertips, setting his blood ablaze. He can feel every emotion flitting through her. Hear every thought moving inside of her mind.
Suddenly, Rey's hand is on top of his. She entwines their fingers and takes another step. She stands between his legs, her racing pulse against the palm of his hand. Looking up at her again, he is not surprised to find her leaning down. He grips her tighter, his free arm moving around to her back.
"I can't stop this," she breathes. "I can't get you out of my head."
He understands the notion.
"But," she says, lowering her head until their foreheads touch, "I don't want to. You said it yourself, Ben, there is good in you, and I will fight alongside you until you are ready to join me."
He doesn't want her to talk anymore.
Before she can open her mouth again, Ren presses on her spine and feels her collapse into him. His eyes shut as their lips met. Behind his eyes, a picture show begins. He sees a desert planet, feels the heat of the sand soaking through his shoes. He hears a girl's voice screaming as someone pulls on his arm. The images move quickly, flickering like a heartbeat, until he recognises his own face.
You know I can take whatever I want.
You're not alone.
You're still holding on! Let go!
And he hears her. The words that still haunt him like some phantom.
Neither are you.
Don't do this, Ben. Don't go this way.
He sees his wretched face as she leaves him on his ship. But soon he is watching himself crawl on a gravel road, his eyes filled with concern.
Rey's mouth is soft and wet against his. As the images fade from his mind, he is aware of how thrush his body is with hers. Her hands are tangled in his hair. Her belly is pressed against his chest. Through the small gap in her medical gown, their bare skin is connected.
He will never be rid of her now.
"I have to leave," she gasps, pulling away several minutes—though it could have been years, centuries, for all he knew; and really, what did he know—later. She pants into his open mouth. Her lips, he notices, are swollen and raw. "I managed to get through to Finn. He and Poe are coming to get me."
Stay.
He almost blurts it, but he digs his teeth into his tongue until he can taste blood and the word evaporates from his brain.
"Go," he says instead, gruff.
Rey's forehead is against his once more and her fingers are filtering through his hair. Her eyes are closed. "I'll be back."
As she makes this oath, her body disappears from the room. He is left clutching air, still able to feel her lips on his, staring at the place where she stood.
I'll be waiting.
Open your eyes, and steady your hands/
'Cause we may never come home