The mid-morning sun filtered through the forest canopy, a light breeze stirring the treetops. Rey halted midstride, listening. That sound never got old—the gentle rustling of leaves. So different from the sound of wind swirling desert sands on the planet she had called home until very recently.
The feeling those two very different sounds evoked in her, however, was very much the same. She associated it with being alone, as she never seemed to notice something so subtle when her attention was occupied with the sounds that came with being around others. She had left behind the cacophony of the Resistance base more than an hour ago, but it wasn't until now, when she had gone so deep into the forest that she could no longer feel Master Skywalker's Force signature or see the X-Wings flying low over the canopy on drills, that she felt she was truly by herself.
She supposed this was as good a place as any. Walking further would only serve to allow her further procrastination. Master Skywalker had given her an assignment, after all.
Rey dropped her small daypack to the ground. Her quarterstaff followed. She plopped down beside them and assumed the position Master Skywalker told her was ideal for a meditating Jedi. It was odd, she thought absently as she took a moment to shift some unfortunately placed pebbles to a less offending position. She had been so reluctant to become the padawan of the legendary Jedi—even after the whirlwind days that saw her transformed from a desert rat on Jakku to a hero of the Resistance, Rey still had a hard time thinking of herself as special, as someone—but here she was.
Sitting by herself in a forest under orders to examine her feelings.
As a general rule, Rey did not like to examine her feelings. Niima Outpost's cutthroat residents had rather quickly taught her that her feelings were worth less than sand. She had spent years cultivating not friendships, but uneasy alliances of mutual benefit to all parties. You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours. When the closest thing Rey had had to a friend on Jakku caught the White Blindness and died shortly thereafter, Rey had bought a Flameout at the Outpost's seediest bar, drunk half, poured the rest into the sand, and gone to work scavenging. She had had a good haul that day.
It had therefore surprised Rey how very quickly she had bonded with Finn, Han, and Chewbacca. How keenly she had felt Han's loss. How her heart broke a little more each day Finn remained in his coma. How the glimpses of camaraderie, support, and friendship had actually seemed to intensify her sense of loss.
And that was the problem. While on Jakku, Rey had dealt with her abandonment by naively believing that one day her family would come back for her. That they had had no choice but to leave her, and there was a good reason they had kept her waiting so long. But here on D-Qar, surrounded by people who barely knew her and yet were so willing to help her and genuinely seemed to care about her, Rey's hope was slowly turning to bitterness. Finn had come for her in the nexu's den when he had known her a scant few days, despite knowing what he was doing was practically a suicide mission. Virtual strangers cared about her more than her own family.
She had taken to brooding around the base—despite Poe Dameron's best efforts to cheer her up—and it was starting to impact her Jedi training. Which was already unconventional enough, as Master Skywalker was fond of pointing out. He had seemed to instinctively know the root of Rey's problem.
"Perhaps it would help for you to focus on some of your good memories from Jakku in your next meditation. How your experiences there shaped you into the woman you are now," Luke had suggested one day when they had finished a sparring match.
"You're saying I should be grateful for being abandoned there?" she had snapped before she was able to check herself.
"No. But in this instance, Rey, I believe forgiveness is about your own peace of mind. This is about what you deserve."
"What I deserve?"
"Freedom, Rey. Freedom from loneliness and feelings of worthlessness. Do you remember when we first met, and you told me you were no one? I didn't believe that for an instant. And I think if you meditate on it, you will find that no one else has ever believed it either. There is an old saying, 'every cloud has a silver lining.' Meaning that if you look hard enough, you can find some good in any bad situation. I am not trying to patronize you," he had continued quickly when Rey had opened her mouth to protest, "but trust me when I say that the key to peace of mind is to not dwell on the negative. This is even more important for Jedi, as the Dark side feeds off of bitterness. Jakku played a huge role in your life, and I believe it would do you good to be able to think of it without anger. I'm not asking you to necessarily remember your time there fondly, and I am certainly not condoning your abandonment. But though you can chose not to let it define you, it is a part of you, Rey, and you must be able to accept it if you are to attain peace. Just consider it. Surely there were some silver linings on Jakku?"
Rey had remained silent, but had reflected on his words in her next meditation. It wasn't until today, however, that she decided to act on them.
The pebbles now no longer distracting her, the sunlight warming her face, and the breeze tugging at the loose strands of her hair, Rey closed her eyes. And remembered.