A/N: Take a listen to "I Found" By Amber Way. It sort of inspired this...
Despite the thrumming engine, and the clattering of bodies throughout the ship, Rey found herself struggling to stay focused, and to stay calm. Her breathing felt labored, chest felt tight. Each syllable, each word, each bit of laughter that swirled about her, melded together into a cacophony of noise that seemed to invade her senses yet made no sense to her ears.
Every now and then she could decipher the soft beeping of the compressor or the radar computer.
But she couldn't pinpoint what anyone was saying. Colors swirled, arms gestured, hugs were exchanged, faces blurred and blended together.
And Rey sat there, silent and detached, her mind a muddled mess of indistinguishable emotions and a fierce ache that wouldn't abate no matter how hard she willed it.
She should care about where they were heading.
She should be checking in on Poe and Finn and Rose.
She should speak to Leia, tell her everything, seek some semblance of closure.
But…
The girl instead pursed her lips, clenched her fists and swallowed back the bile that threated to rise.
Rey blinked a few times to clear her vision and straightened her shoulders, silently slipping towards the back of the ship and away from the growing jubilation at renewed hope the rabble of friends seemed to share. Something, she didn't quite share herself.
Stars, what was wrong with her?
Vision swaying, Rey tucked herself into the furthest corner, pulled her feet up and curled her legs beneath herself. Her gaze caught the whirring lights of the Falcon and the way the stars blurred past the small port window, a good reminder of the distance they'd placed between themselves and Crait.
And him.
There'd been so much potential, so much hope.
And it made the bitterness of their loss all the more potent and foul on her tongue.
Luke
Ben
So many lives lost, so many hopes strewn across the salty planet and among the stars. Anywhere she'd ventured, people suffered. Any time she formulated a plan, an idea, a hope…
Is this what war did to people? Tore them apart? Destroyed everything?
Did it even matter what side they fought on? Would war make corpses of them all?
Unbidden, the tug on her senses alerted Rey that her thoughts were trending down a dark path.
A path she couldn't walk.
A path she wouldn't walk.
It wasn't all bad. It's not all bad.
Rey's eyes slipped closed and she clenched her fists tighter, refusing to acknowledge the imploring gaze, and the soft murmurs of reassurance.
She couldn't do this.
Not now.
It wasn't all bad
He repeated the sentiment, his own hands balled into tight fists as he peered at her face, noting the way her brow furrowed and creased, and the way her lips pursed into a thin line.
And the way her nose crinkled, the freckles thereon catching his eyes.
She didn't believe him. She didn't accept his attempts to assuage the rolling tide of emotions that threatened to consume the girl.
He noted the sheen of sweat on her brow and the way her hair was coming undone, thick, rich tendrils of brown waves cascading haphazardly about her face.
Something struck him in the chest and he struggled to keep his breathing even as he studied her further.
She should be celebrating.
They'd escaped.
They'd bested his troops, tricked him (as infuriating as it was to admit that), and they managed to survive another day.
But, oddly, she was alone.
That piqued his interest, for even though he couldn't see her surroundings, couldn't identify any space where she resided, he knew her…friends…he knew they were lurking somewhere close by.
After all, she'd rescued them.
And yet here she sat, alone, no interference from outside forces. She wasn't talking to anyone, certainly.
But, why?
And why did it matter to him?
He quirked his head thoughtfully, eyes narrowing as he assessed the young, untrained Jedi.
She'd refused his teaching.
Refused his hand.
The anger roiled low in he belly, a coiled spring waiting to burst forth.
And yet, something else gnawed at his senses, setting his chest constricting in an uncomfortable way.
He couldn't place the sensation but…
"Why did you refuse?" The query left his lips before he could stop himself, curiosity gnawing at him.
"I don't want to do this." she rebuked, turning her head and placing her unclenched hands at her temples. "I can't do this now Ben. Leave me alone."
And there it was.
The name.
His name.
She hadn't…
He swallowed back the thickness in his throat, his eyes searching her face again, noting the deep frown that marred her features, casting her whole countenance into shadows.
Why…?
The anger sprang forth.
"Why would you care so much now? Even now. After all of it. After how we…after what you…after everything you'd still speak my—that name. Why would it matter to you now? You gave up on—"
He didn't finish the sentence, his railing cut off by a disarming glare from Rey and she pounced to her feet, coming to stand inches from him, the bond between them rippling with anxious, angry energy.
He felt their bond strengthen at the influx of energy.
"I never gave up on you." She snapped, eyes blazing. "You gave up on yourself. You couldn't…you wouldn't listen to reason."
"Your reason is madness," He spat in return. "You think that everything will magically remedy itself? That the First Order won't hunt you down, hunt me down and destroy what little resources you have left? You don't think that my own mo—" He caught himself, a foreign pain piercing his chest, "That your general will look at me in the same way again?"
He shook his head derisively hating himself for being stuck here, tethered to this…this…
"No. It can't be your way. It could never have been your way."
"It doesn't have to be your way either, Ben," Ray snapped, "I can't walk that darkened path with you. I can't do it. It's wrong."
"And who decided that? Who decided what was right and wrong? What was good and evil?"
Rey took a step back from the dark-haired adversary who stood before her, projected to her through their insufferable bond.
"Killing innocent people is never right." She muttered with a frown, feeling the way her fingers twitched and tingled in his presence. She watched how he inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Then I'd say that your resistance is just as guilty the First Order," His voice had lost its edge and Kylo Ren (Ben—she redacted) seemed to weary of their forced connection.
The man finally lowered his hand and peered at the girl, eyes narrowing as Rey peered up at him, heart hammering fiercely against her ribs.
The tension she felt was the same tension in the elevator, the same one in the throne room where…
"Don't dwell on that."
He cut her of forcefully, his gaze darkening "I'd rather not."
"But the images had already sprung forth, still so fresh and raw."
The power they'd possessed together.
How they'd fought, a swirl of grey and black fabric, bright red saber and a blue blade striking down Snoke, and decimating the others that stood in their way.
Rey let her mind slip, as Ben remained stoically silent, resentment burning in his eyes.
All the girl saw, though, was the battle that played out, over and over in her head. She'd trusted him, relied on his movements. He was languid, graceful, and feral all at once, his blows precise, movements smooth and orderly, whereas her own movements were haphazard and a bit unwieldy.
And yet, her hand had always found his arm, his hip, his shoulder. He'd always been there, a solid presence boosting her confidence, propelling her movements forward and giving her the drive to complete her mission to destroy the enemy that surrounded them both.
He'd curl in on himself, his strikes falling downward, as he allowed Rey to seek leverage from his back, the muscle constricting and pushing her outward, towards the red helmets and angry curses lodged her way.
In that moment they'd danced.
They'd skirted danger together, relied on one another, the heat of his breath had been in her hair, her sweaty palms had rested on the man's tunic as she'd leveled an appreciative gaze at him.
She could still smell the smoke, and hear the sparks of machines whizzing and whining in her ears. She could see the red haze that had settled over the room, the steam from cooling pipes seeping into the air.
She could see his eyes, the triumph that swirled in them.
And then conflict too.
"You know, you weren't always that graceful," He retorted offhandedly, bringing Rey back to the presence.
The girl jerked back in surprised and peered up at Ben, studying his blank expression and trying to quell the rapid beating of her heart.
Her adversary continued to stare down at her, his emotions unreadable as he folded his arms together and leaned against the cross beam that hid Rey's little nook from prying eyes.
"I seem to recall our first battle, don't you?"
Then he smirked at her and Rey's blood boiled.
"All that untamed power, all that awkward pacing, positioning, and footwork."
He snorted lightly. "Truly a sight to behold."
Rey tried to deny the images that he forced on her through their connection. The blue of her blade, the red of his, the slippery snow covered terrain, the rocky and craggy hillside she'd scrambled up as she'd tried to gain purchase and leverage against him. She remembered the way he'd pressed his advantage, towering over her, his hair wild, matted against his brow as he forced the lightsaber down on her, the raw power of each blow sending shockwaves through her arms, making her legs buckle and her fingers quiver.
She'd nearly lost her own lightsaber.
"But I seem to recall me besting you" She murmured, hardening her gaze. "That counts for something."
"Yes" He amended derisively, his tone shifting, darkening "You did. But the force was the real victor, not you. You relied on your emotions and in your frenzy, managed to knock me down. It wasn't your own prowess with the saber. It was luck."
He frowned at her.
"I told you, you needed a teacher."
Rey's gaze hardened as she peered at him. Her shoulders had gone rigid and her eyes blazed with fury at the implication.
And the memory behind that implication.
He'd done it intentionally of course.
Rub a little more salt in the wound…for both of them.
And you were my teacher, remember?
He started in surprise at her admission, flittering images dancing across his consciousness.
The island.
Her startled face.
The smooth, willowy extension of her arms as he helped her extend her legs, position her arms, and curve her hands around the hilt of the lightsaber.
He run her through her paces, showing her how to parry, how to block and how to dodge when necessary.
He'd watched her stumble, drop the saber when her grip was too loose and her movements too forceful.
But he'd also witnessed the delight in her progress and she gained more control, felt more ease with the weapon, and with her own insecurities.
He'd wanted her to tap into that power, that energy and use it to her advantage.
'Make it a fair fight'
See, not all bad.
Her voice echoed in his head again and when he blinked back to awareness, he caught her unassuming gaze, and her neutral expression. Her features were placid, eyes wide and unblinking at she stared at him.
He'd seen that gaze before.
As he'd knelt down in front of her, knelt down to retrieve his—Han Solo's dice…
He swallowed.
You were right, though, I suppose. She amended with a small smile.
And then she straightened, squared her shoulders, stepped forward, and stood toe to toe with him.
The man balked slightly at her boldness, resisting the urge to step back as he watched his small force bond companion peer up at him in defiance.
"If it wasn't all bad, then that means you're not all bad either."
I'm a monster He hissed immediately at her assertion, refusing to quell the burning fury that bubbled even as he felt exhaustion tug at his senses, and the separation between their bond beginning to pull him away from her, away from their conversation, and away from the bitter sting that continued to stab at his senses with each syllable and thought.
Her face was fading, but her features remained neutral, calm, though he spied the glittering pricks of unshed tears in her eyes.
But not to me.